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1 E U D A L TIMES; 



THE COURT OF JAMES THE THIRD. 



!2l Sfottbl} §i0tovical ipiag. 



BY REV. JAMES WHITE. 



WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTERS, 
COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. 



NEW-YORK: 
"WM. TAYLOR & CO., 18 Ann-Streot. 

BALTIMORE, MD. • 
WM. & HENRY TAYLOR, Sun Iron Buildings. 



PRICE 12 1-2 CENTS. 






i 






EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 

' Feudal Times, or the Conn of James the Third," the thh-d 
dramatic effort of the Rev. Mr. White, was produced at the 
Sadlers' Wells Theatre, London, on the 18th of February. Ex- 
■cept that it betrays marks of carelessness in some of its minor 
features, it is undoubtedly superior as an acting play to its 
predecessor, " The King of the Commons." Many of the scenes 
are eminently striking; but others are somewhat marred in con- 
sequence of the too comrQon fault of dramatists in not rendering 
sufficiently apparent the motive of the action. 

Of the literaa-y merits of this play, the author may well be 
proud. It contains much poy/erful and condensed writing, and 
is studded v/ith many gems of poetry, of a ver}^ pure water. 
Who can read the follov/ing extracts, and fail to acknowledge 
that the poetical genius of the author is of a high standard: 

" Thanks for the song. I love the roundeJays 
That speak of sunny spots or shady dells, 
Where wars and rufflers are unheard of eiver^ 
Oh, what a blessed hour for this poor land, 
If music should be native to its glens, 
And rise from hall and cottage, yalc and hilJ, 
Like a pleased nation's prayea- of .thaiikfulness 
For peace and joy !" 

" We've rid through the thick night, and see at la^ 
The opening sky, where the awakened sun 
Looks from his cradl-e in the curtained east. 
How still and silent is this morning hour, 
As if, in breathless eapeetatiou, 
It heard the distant coming of the day !" 

Of a similar high character is Cockrane's description of thfc 
assassination of 3'^oung Giuliano De Medici — ^^au episode happiJ v 
iBtroduced, and which, whilst strictly subservient to the feelings 
and situation of the person uttering it, has also the effect ot 
•showing, that by his former consort with nobles and princes, he 
is not unworthy of his present belted honours. 

Oachrane and Margaret Randolph are the .two promb-ant claa- 



W EDITORIAL rNTEODUCTIOPf. 

racters of the piece, and their conception betraj^s genius, and 
their execution skill of no mean ability. They are full of noble 
and loity feelings ; and placed as they are in contrast with the 
turbulent and rugged spirits of the fifteenth century, who eared 
for little else than what pertained " to feats of broil and battle," 
they must awaken a responsive feeling in th.e breast of every 
lover of the true and beautiful. The jesting, yet reflective spi- 
rit of Margaret in the earlier scenes of the play^ is admirably 
pourtrayed. Here is her simile of the characters of Angus and 
hennox : 

" Queen. You forget 
That young Lord LeiiJiox is a close ally 
Qf Aug us. 

Marg. That's the veyy thing I thought, 
loth are disciples of the kennel : one 
A sage grave dog, long-eared, and deep of jswlj 
The other, a pert spaniel^, yaffing round, — 
And excellent companions; one to roase 
The game, and one to tear it down." 

Nor is this jesting spirit at all incompatible with that elevated, 
dignified, and heroic spirit she presents, wlien the deeper impul- 
ses of the woman have been called into action. The gradual de- 
velopment of these feelings, until slie rises to the very height of 
heroic sublimity, is rem^arkabl'y well carried out. "We quote one 
brief passage, which she utters in describing those who jog along 
from day to day, never elevating their tlioughts above the petty 
things around them : 

" A happy, pleasant,, easy, dear good woaian^ 
Who'd gape and quake as if she saw a spirit. 
If a great Thought — a. thing that fills the heart. 
That lifts the soul, that shakes the poor frail limbs, — 
Entered her brain, Susbed her pale brow aad cheeks,. 
And filled her eye with tears." 

The characters of James- and Angus are of secondary impor- 
tance to the two before mentioned; but the latter especially, in 
the hands of a good actor, is capable of being rendered very ef- 
fective. We could have wished, lx)wever, that the character 
of Angus had been preierv^ed to the end more consistent. It 
seems scarcely in keeping with a character possessing any noble 
and chivalrous feelings, that at the moment of being pardoned 
'by the King, he should utter false promises of allegiance, and 
threaten vengeance against a brave man who h.ad only perform- 
ed his duty. History speaks more favourably of the renowned 
""■ Bell-the-Cat;" but Mr. White, with other dramatists, must be 



EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION, V 

allowed some liberty with history, in order to facilitate a suc- 
cessful denouement of the play. 

A London critic, who witnessed the first representation of 
this play, says: "To Miss Laura Addison — giving her, as a 
lady, the first place — and Mr. Phelps, the greatest praise is due. 
The part of Margaret was one eminently calculated to bring out 
all the best points of Miss Addison's acting. We have not often 
heard, of late, such genuine applause as that which greeted her 
very vivid description of the combat, as she is supposed to look 
at it from the window ; indeed, so continuous was the approba- 
tion of the audience, that it interfered with the progress of the 
scene. Her interview with Cochrane-^ at the end of the piece, 
she also rendered very powerful and effective. Mr. Phelps 
played the hero most carefully, and gave every line with the 
nice perception of the gentleman and the scholar. His imj)res- 
sive reading of the speech commencing— 

" And what is life?— 
A flight by a fKjor bird, 'tween two black cliffs 
Across some narrow valley ; for brief space 
Sunshine falls on its wings; a minute more, 
And all is dark again !" 

was warmly recognised. Mr. H. Marston's mannerism suited 
the part of the irresolute, effeminate James, admirably ; and a 
better representative of the rugged, fier}^ Angus, could not have 
been found than Mr. G. Bennett. Miss Cooper, Mr. Graham, 
and Mr. Hoskins, contributed also to the general good effect ; 
there was a quaintness in the acting of the latter gentleman, ve- 
ry diverting. 

*'■ At the fall of the curtain, the applause was loud and univer- 
sal. Mr. Phelps and Miss Addison were called for, and appear- 
ed ; so was Mr. Bennett ; and, finally, the author was compelled 
to bow firom his private box. The success of " Feudal Times" 
is unquestionable ; and reflects the highest credit, as we have 
stated, upon all parties concerned in its production. The house 
was densely crowded, not a corner of standing rocm being left 
vacant when the curtain rose." 



OAST OF CHARACTERS, 

As performed at Sadlers' Wells Theatre, London, Feb. 18th, 184T. 



King James III. of Scotland 

Lord Angus - . - 

liord Gairlies 

Lord Drunxmond 

Lord Lennox 

Lord Gray 

Walter Cochrane, Earl of Mar 

Bishop ef Dunkald 



Mr, 



H. MarstoA 

G. Bennett, 

Graham. 

Branson, 

Hoskins, 

Knight. 

Phelps. 

Mellon. 



Qaeen Margaret - * - - Miss Cooper. 

Lady Drmnmond - - - - Mrs. H. Marston 
Margaret Randolph - . - - Miss Lam-a AddisiyC. 
Lords, Heralds, Attendants,. Favourites, &c. 



The year 1482 is the date at which this play is laid,, and the 
Costumes should be of that periods 



EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 
It. means Right; L. Left: R. D. Right Door ; L. D. Left Door f 
§. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door. 

RELATIVE POSITIONS. 

R., meaws Eight; L., Left ; C, Centre ; R. C, Right of Centre $ 

L. C, Left of Centre. 

iV.B Passaged marked with Inverted Commas, are usually omHted in the 

representationt 



FEtDAL TIMES: 

OR, 

THE COURT OF JAMES THE THIRD. 

♦ 

ACT I. 

Scene I. — In front of Rolyrood. 
Enter Lennox and Gtairlies, l. 

Lien. What should we fear 1 

Gair. Loud talking, my Lord Lennox — 
That's what we should have fear of. 

hen. Not a whit. 
Here's a poor king, led like a managed horse, 
By Cochrane. What is Cochrane \ 

Gair. He is a man, 
A bold and wise one. 

Len. A mechanical ! 
A fellow that plans houses, that builds bridges, 
That levels roads, that reared the battlements 
On this old Holyrood. 

Gair. [Pointing up.] That built, no less, 
Yon donjon. 

Len. Well, he shall not rule us long ; 
He's been our master since our noble prince, 
Bold Mar, died suddenly. And Albany, 
Our other prince, is banished. Come, Lord Gairlies, 
'Tis pitiful to yield to the base yoke 
Of such a one as Cochrane. We must wake 
This king from his soft dreams, his books, and songs» 
To do us justice. 

Gair. Pray to heaven he wake not. 
If he must do us justice ! Good, my lord. 



8 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[ACTl 



Where is that band of names you wot of? 

Len. Here ! 

Gair. Oh ! keep it close. It strikes me 'twere more 
wise 
To pray that James go booking, dreaming on ; 
For "justice" is an ugly-sounding word. 

Len. I tell you, if Lord Angus would consent 
To wed me to his ward, to Margaret Randolph — 

Gail'. Does he refuse % 

Len. Oh, he would give the girl. 
If I'd forego the lands. If he'd agree, 
And I had all the Randolphs at my beck, — 
Eh ] James might waken then, — we'd have no fear 
Of justice then, — no, nor of Cochrane neither. 

Gair. Hush ! here comes Angus. 

Enter Angus, r. 

Ang. Give you good day, my lords. 
Heard ye the news toward ? 

Len. Ha, what is it ] 
. Ang. The Earl of Mar has come to life again. 

Len. How ! was it false, then 1 was the prince net slain 1 

Ang. Slain prince or not, there lives the earl of Mar, 
Nobly attended, richly armed ; e'en now 
He's coming down the High Street. 

Gair. There's a look 
Within your eyes, that suits not with the news ; — 
Is John of Mar, our Scottish prince, alive % 

Ang. No. But our Scottish prince, a mightier man, 
For that the king is but his shadow, and we 
His slaves and vassals — Walter Cochrane lives. 

Gair. And he is Earl of Mar ! 

Len. The mason cut ! 
Let him chip stones. You're jesting, Angus ? 

Ang. Look you, 
My l6rds. I never had a fame for jesting; 
If I had been so lucky, and could trip 
A score or two of verses from the tongue, 
It might have served me better. Listen here : 
The king has made this Cochrane belted earl. 
And called him Mar. Power never sank so low, 
Nor pride climbed up so high ; the king and he 



Scene I j 



FEUDAL TIMES. 9 



Are brothers — nay, he's something more than brother, 
And leads him as he Hsts. 

Lcn. Come king, come devil, 
I'll bear't no longer. 

Gair. Gentle lord, be still : 
Draw back ; they're coming. 

Ang. [Looking up the High Street^ An' he had been 
born 
A noble, he'd ha' borne him nobly. Pity 
Such a proud mien should own no redder blood 
Than a base churl's ! He bears him like a man. 
And has an eye that — Lennox, in your ear — 
"When will you have so proud a glance as that % 

[The lords retire, c. 

Enter King James, Cochrane, and Attendants, l. 

James. I wish I were a prince of Italy, 
To see new towers rise in the balmy air. 
And hear soft music all the livelong day. 
Ah ! Cochrane, what a happier lot than mine 
Is wise Lorenzo's — the magnificent— 
The star of Florence ! How I envy him ! 

Coch. He has great duties, and he does them greatly, 
And so is happy. 

James. Painters, sculptors, poets. 
Are round him ever ; eyes where genius glows, 
And lips where love is cradled. 

Coch. No, not ever ; 
These are for pleasure hours ; his working time 
Has other objects — wrongs to remedy — 
To vindicate the law, and cast his shield 
Over the powerless, — and with an armed hand 
To daunt the oppressor. Think, sir, you're a King ! 

James. A king — a Scottish King ! Oh, let us talk 
Of the soft skies and perfume-loaded air ; — 
I know what you would say — I cannot do them : 
I would I coQld. I have no heart for brawls. 
I wish I had been born a peasant boy, 
On the clear Arno — anything but this. 
Stay near me, Walter. 

Ang. [Advancing.] I've a suit, my liege. 

James. Have you. Lord Angus ? I have never seen you 
That you had not a suit. 



10 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act I 



Ang. My liege, I've urged it 
A. hundred times. 

James. Speak to Lord Mar, I pray you: 
He'll hear your suit. 

Ang. Sir! mean you Master Cochrane 1 

James. I mean my friend — I mean — but psha ! psha ! 
psha ! 
What should they know of friendship ] I've referred you 
To Walter, Earl of Mar, my counsellor. 

Ang. It's not about a house, an't please you, sir 
A Douglas asks an audience of his king. 

James. Now, wake us not, Lord Angus ; wake us nof ! 
You think, because we deal not in loud words 
And scowling looks, that we are free of gall, — 
A cooing dove, a lamb. Now, by the saints. 
You've touched a chord has roused the devil in us. 
You sneer at what we've done, — you ! 'Tis enough 
To awake the dead ; you sneer at Walter Cochrane ! 
You, who can scarcely spell your proper name; 
A mindless, soulless, selfish, boastful thing ! 
Begone, sir! — Come, Lord Mar, lend me your arm; 
It hurts me to be angry. — Get you gone ! 

Cocli. Nay, listen to his suit ; for what he says 
Of rae, forgive it. Listen to his suit. 

James. I listen to his suit '\ no, not a word ! 
What ! is a man to trample on my heart. 
To speak against my friend, and such a friend ! — 
And then to plague me with his suitss % No, no ! 
I'd rather be a friend, a loving friend, 
Than the best, calmest, coldest, stoniest king 
That ever had great wisdom, but no soul. 
I will not hear you. If you've aught to say, 
We'll hear it through Lord Cochrane, Earl of Mar; 
And so we leave you. — Come, my lord. 

Cocli. I follow. \_'Ex'tt James, \.. 

[Coch. snakes obeisance to Angus.^ I wait your lordship's 
orders. 

Ang. Oh, for orders ! 
We wait on yours. The time has long gone by 
For vs to give our orders. Some years since, 
It was for nobles to command, not beg. — 
What say you, Gairlies ? 



;&'«;i:ne 1.] 



FEUDAL TIMES. 11 



Gair. I tbink Cochrane here 
Bids fairly, 

Len. So think I ; mid if he'd deign 
To speak to James about that wardenship, 
I would not think a pound or two of gold 
Too much to pay his kindness. 

Coch. Ever thus ! 
They knov/ me not, they will not know me.— Lords, 
I veiled my bonnet to your lineages 
And your proud names — my own I know is humble ^ 
I wished to serve you — wished to «how to you 
That our king's heart is as a king's should be — 
Open to all. You cast me off, you wrong me— 
You waken other feelings, A King's sword 
Has touched my shoulder; a King's hand has bound 
The broad belt of an Earl upon my breast s 
I banish from my thoughts all humbleness. 
My lords, what would you % 

Len. \Asidc.,] Curse him, what a look ! 
He'll daunt old Angus. 

Ang. Now you're like a man, 
And, by my soul, I've looked on far-come Earls 
Might envy your high bearing. What I v/ould 
Is this : that vaunting menials bar not up 
The path to James's favour ; let the hind 
Stick to his plough, the shepherd to his flock, 
The mason (frown not, Cochrane,) to his trowel. 

Coch. Lord Angus, if I frowned, I meant it not; 
You taunt me — you are welcome ; for your words 
Are light as feathers weighed against the truth. 
Eight years ago I left my modest home. 
And went to other lands. I taught me there 
New arts, unknown in this unsoftened clime ; 
But glowing in the light of southern suns. 
With grandeur gathered from the power of Thought^ 
I' sat at Buonarotti's honoured feet. 
And learned that there's a vivifying soul 
In the deep heart of man, that flings itself 
In glory on the Dome that lifts to heaven 
Its massive form, poised in the middle air; 
Or on the storied aisle, vast, holy, dim, 
Fit dwelling-place for prayer and penitence : 



12 FEUB-AL TIMES'. 



[Act I 



I leaiTiecltJie" cligmty and power of Art 
To elevate and awe. Yet Angelo 
Is but a mason — rather, he's a god ! 

Afig. He may be what he likes ; it matters not 
Whether he is a god, or saint, or devil ; 
But this I say ; if yo i were worth my sword, 
I'd plead my cause myself. 

CocJi. Not worth your sword ! 
Hash man, you've said the word ! Now, here I standi 
Belted and spurred^ a knight and gentleman, 
And there's my glove. I tell you, this true sword 
Has crossed a nobler than the Douglas's^ 
Or Lennox's> or Gairlies' i which of you 
Will lift if? I am ready, sword or spear^ 
Mounted or all afoot. 

A7ig. I take your glove , 
And if you prove that you're no boasting churl, 
But have crossed swords with a true noble, then 
Welcome the hour that sees us at the work ! 
J. haven't had my blade blood-specked for months. 
And fain would see what colour yours is of. 

Cock. Then, sir, I wait your bidding. Fare you well, 

[Ex/t, L> 

Ang. It's better this than paying a worthless dog- 
To make away with him ; 'twill be a pleasure 
To do it for myself. 

Len. And saves the coin. 
You could not get it done under a score 
Of golden crowns. 

Gair. But let us fix the time. 

A)ig. So it be soon, fix when and where you like. 
I must reach Nithsdale upon Saturday, 
And slit this braggart's weasand ere I. go. [Exeunt, !>, 

Scene II. — A room i?i Holy rood. 

Enter the Queen, Lady Drummond, and Margaret 
Randolph, r. 

Queen. You're silent, Margaret. 
Marg. I made up my mind 
To be good company to-day, and listen. 

Queen, But 'tis unkind. What would the forest be 



Scene II.] 



FEUDAL TIMES. 13 



Without its birds 1 the spring without its foam 1 
The garden flowerless ? 

Marg. All because a girl 
Chooses, by way of gift and benison, 
To hold her tongue ! Poor birds, poor spring, p6or flow- 
ers ! 

Queen. Nay, gentle Lady Drummond looks as though 
You wrong her every time your lips are closed. 

Lady D. And so she does : there's not a joy on earth 
So great as listening to her merry laugh. 
Laugh, pretty Margaret. 

Marg. Ha ! ha ! Well, I laugh : 
But will it please you tell me why I laugh ? 

Lady D. Why, was there ever such a mad-cap girl ! 
What have you got to do but laugh all day ] 
You're young, and rich, and beautiful ! 

Queen. For shame : 
You're nothing but a courtly flatterer, — 
You'll make dear Margaret proud. 

Lady D. Oh, as for pride. 
She's proud enough already ! 

Marg. Pray, go on : 
I'm anxious for some more such honeyed words. 
I'm young — that's true; I'm rich — it may be so ; 
And beautiful — and therefoi-e I should laugh ] 
I think, dear Lady Drummond, you've rnissed out 
A fourth, and fitting cause for happiness ; 
1 have no glooming, frowning, cold-eyed lord, 
To say, "Come, Margaret, here !" " Go, Margaret, there !" 
" Do this — do that !" or, " Don't do this, nor that !" 

Queen. She hits you there ; Lord Drummond ne'er was 
drawn 
So to the life. 

Marg. Or, if I long for court, 
Says, " Margaret, you must stay the next half year 
In Drummond Tower." 1 wish I saw the man 
Would give his orders so to Margaret Randolph ! 

Queen. I doubt you not. 

Marg. What is it you doubt not 1 

Queen. That you do really wish you sav/ the man 
That could command you so. 

Marg. There's not alive 



14 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act I 



The man would dare. 

Qufen. Where is young Lennox gone ? 

Marg. Into the stable — so, at least, I guess— • 
To learn some better manners from his horse. 

Queen. I know a better school. 

Marg. Is it the kennel 1 
He has very much the manners of a hound, 
The graceful air, and deep soul-touching voice. 
And valorous look — as if no Scottish hedge 
Bore such a weapon as a cudgel. 

Queen. Girl, 
You speak too freely. 

Marg. I ] Not I, not I ! 
T answered a plain question. 

Queen. You forget 
That young Lord Lennox is a close ally 
Of Angus, 

Marg. That's the very thing I thought. 
Both are disciples of the kennel : one, 
A sage grave dog, long-eared, and deep of jowl; 
The other, a pert spaniel, yaffing round ; 
And excellent companions — one to rouse 
The game, and one to tear it down. The fawn 
Is a poor silly creature to submit. 

Queen. It cannot help it. 

Marg. Is there no deep ditch, 
No foaming precipice of sheer descent. 
No rock to dash its silly brains against, 
Rather than — faugh ! faugh ! faugh ! — ^to cow'r and crouch 
To yelping cur, or grim-jawed slot-hound 1 

Queen. What ! 
Does your old guardian's name not frighten you ? 
Remember you're the ward of Angus, child. 

Marg. I but remember I am Margaret Randolph, 
Sole bearer of that name. Alas, alas ! 
That the great Regent's sword should deck the wal 
Of a poor orphan's house, and not one hand 
Of his own kin to hold it ! 

Queen. Let young Lennox 
Try if his strength can wield it. 

Marg. IMadam — but 
I will not jest again. I pray you, madam, 



Scene II.] 



FEUDAL TIMES. 15 



Speak not of Lennox — speak not of that sword. 

I will not laugh again : I was most wrong 

To jest — 1 ne'er will jest again. [She retires, l. 

Lady D. Fie, Margaret ! 

Queen. Let her alone, dear Drummond. She not jest. 
Nor laugh, nor sing 1 Why, she no more can help 
Being gay, than the blithe bird, when summer comes, 
Can keep its happy heart from pouring out 
Its happiness in music. Let her rest : 
She'll be herself again. 

Lady D. [A?mouncing.] Lord Lennox, madam, 
Claims entrance. 

Queen. Let us see how he has thriven 
Beneath the teaching of his horse and hound. 
Admit him. 

Enter Lennox, r., and hieels to the Queen. 

Pray you, rise ; you look amazed. 

Has Arthur's seat walked forth to Berwick Lawl 

Or the old Castle fallen into the Loch ? 

Or have you seen a ghost "? What ails the man '? 

hen. Stranger, far stranger ! Nothing will surprise me ; 
No, if the Castle, and the Berwick Law, 
And Arthur's seat, should dance a threesome reel. 
With huge Ben Lomond for the piper — nothing 
Shall make me start again. 

Queen. What is it, sir '? 
Has crook-backed Gloster set the town on fire 1 

Len. No, madam. Give me leave to draw my breath. 

Queen. Oh, willingly ! Suppose you come again, 
Say in a week or two, to tell the news. 

Len. A week or two ! Within an hour or two 
'Twill be no news to all the winds of heaven ! 
T tell you, Angus — stout old Archibald — 
Is challenged a Voutranre. 

Queen. Is challenged, say you ? 
And not the challenger ] That is amazing ! 
What fiery spirit took the pace of him., 
And gave the challenge first 1 

Len. Oh, guess, I pray you. 

Queen. How can we guess, I pray you % Not an hour 
Without a brawl, — few hours without a fight, 



16 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act I 



Among our polished lords. 

Len. You'll never guess : 
The lists will be arranged this afternoon ; 
'Twill be a charming sight; for Archibald 
Is a stout arm, though grizzled in the locks. 
As for the other — in a thousand guesses 
You shall not hit him. — Guess him, Lady Drummond. 

Lady D. If 'twere not that my lord had strained his 
wrist 
By striking a pert priest on the thick skull 
Without a gauntlet, I should guess 'twas he. 

Queen. Is't a V outrance ? Will James give license, 
think ye, 
Or Cochrane ] They discountenance such things. 

Len, Ah, there you've named the very challenger ! 

Queen. Who, sir 1 — the King 1 

Len. No, madam : not the King, 
But the stone-chipping churl, the chisel-hitter. 
The quarry-emptier, the wall-building knave ; 
Oh, I could call him fifty names beside ! 

Marg. [Adva?icmg.] Call him a brave accomplished 
gentleman, 
If you mean Walter Cochrane. 

Le}t. Lady Margaret ! 
You make me — no, you do not make me laugh ; 
You mean not what you say. 

Marg. I do ! 

Len. Well, then, 
I'm puzzled more and more. A month ago 
You poured an ocean of such cutting words 
On his devoted head, — why, my poor tongue 
Grows weary wdth one half the crushing load 
Of taunt, and quip, and sneer ! And now you say, 
He is accomplished, and a gentleman ! 
Gramercy on such gentleness ! 

Queen. The king 
Knows not of this. He will forbid the lists. 

Len. Why, Cochrane knew, perhaps, his gi-ace's mind. 
And challenged in the faith that the good king 
Would bar the duel. I'll be off to Angus. 

Queen. Go not. This thing needs other aid than yours. 
I'll to the king, I'll stop it, if T can.— 



Scene III.] 



FEUDAL TIMES. 17 



Come, Margaret, you can pour your winning words 
In James's ear. — Lord Lennox, fare ye well ! — 
Come, Margaret. 

Marg. I attend you. I will speak 
To oui good king. Oh, would I were a man ! [Exeu7it, r. 

Scene III. — -A room in Holyrood, unth pictures, drawings, 
statues, <^c. James, Cochrane, and others discovered, 
A Musician has just finished a song to the harp. 

James. Thanks for the song. I love the roundelays 
That speak of sunny spots or shady dells. 
Where war and rufflers are unheard of ever. 
Oh, what a blessed hour for this poor land. 
If music should be native to its glens. 
And rise from hall and cottage, vale and hill. 
Like a pleased nation's prayer of thankfulness 
For peace and joy ! 

Coch. But music has a voice 
Stirring and warlike. 

James. Oh, I hate that voice ; 
I hate the brazen trumpet's angry note ! 
No, no, the soft delicious harmony 
Of linked voices in a plaintive strain, 
A tale of love or sorrow, has more power 
To bless my soul than any sound of earth : 
So speak not of its stirring, warlike voice ; 
But let me listen all the summer eve 
To dying falls and tearful melodies, 
Like those we've heard. — Fair Preston, let me see 
Your sketch of that old Grecian Demigod. 

^Loolxs at a paper ^ 
Ah, well, — 'tis like a god, — a brow of power. 
Yet lips all softened into human sweetness. 
He might be young Achilles, ere his heart 
Battened on blood, while yet he paced the shore, 
Watching his mother's coming from the waves. — 
You told me. Mar, you knew in Italy 
A youth as fair. 

Coch. Oh, fairer, lordlier ! 

James. And young and gallant % 

Coch. Brave and beautiful \ 
No feigned Apollo, girt with clanging bow. 



18 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act I 

E'er stepped so proudly on the shining ridge 

Of topmost Ida, in the golden light 

Of his immortal beauty. He was one 

To worship without sin ; for never saint 

Bore such pure heart, or spirit more kin to heaven. 

James > Is he, then, dead 1 

CocJi. Dead — dead, within these arms ! 

James. How was it % Oh, I would he were alive ! 
I'd bid him come and join a northern king, 
Who would make up for cold and rugged clime 
By a fond welcome and true tenderness. 
Tell us, dear Mar. 

Coch. Young Julian was the son 
Of the w^se Pietro, the prince of Florence, 
And brother of Lorenzo, fitly called 
Magnificent. 'Tis now four years in June 
Since the Cathedral floor was dimmed in blood, 
And the hard heel of armed conspirators 
Crushed its broad marbles. Julian and the prince 
Were at the altar : incense, music, prayer. 
All rose to heaven, when suddenly the doors 
Flew open, and the cruel Pazzis — foes 
Of the De Medicis, and hot in rage — 
Rushed through the aisles : ere Julian could lift up 
The entranced beauty of his bended head, 
A dagger in the hand of Francis Pazzi 
Had pierced his side, and his pure soul had risen 
On the same breath that carried up his prayer. 

James. How % Was such onslaught done in Italy % 
Alas, 'tis like a story of our own. 

Cock. I caught him falling, and with lucky aim 
Stretched his destroyer on the slippery floor. 
We fought, — we drove them from the holy place ; 
We knew not we had lost young Julian ; 
But when we turned we saw the bended form 
Of him, the loved, the honoured, with an air 
Of holiness spread o'er his meek-bowed head, 
Like the calm glory round a martyr's brow. 

Enter Gairles and two Lords, r. 

Gair. Your grace ! 

James. What blustering Hannibal is this ? 



lOiiNElil.] FEUDAL TIMES. 



19 



Oh, Gairlies — we are busy. [Looks at a drawing. 

"What a smile 

On the sweet Virgin's lips ! A mother's smile, 
Mingled with lowly worship— 

Gair, Please your grace, 
Lord Angus — 

James. What of him % Pray you be quick— 

Gair. Requires your grace's license to accept 
The challenge — 

James. To be sure ; we would not mar 
His lordship's sports. 

Gair. An't please you, if you heard 
The challenger's name — 

James. I have no wish to hear it ; 
The man that challenged Angus — that's enough, 
I care not, when two dogs are close embraced, 
With jagged teeth sunk in each other's throats, 
Whether the black is Mungo, or the other 
Be Luath, or whatever name you please. 
Tell Angus he is free to fight or not. — 
Kind Ramsay, touch that fairy lute again. — - 
\To Gair.] You have your answer. 

Gair. If I were to name 
One here beside us — Master Cochrane — 

James. Earl — 
He is an Earl ! — Come, strike the string, I pray yoti. 

Gair. I think you'd haply interpose a word 
Between Lord Angus and his feud. 

James. Not I : 
I tell you I regard not who the man 
That challenged Angus is. — Go on, sweet friend ! — - 
How harsh these words of feuds and challenges ! — • 
Sing me the song of the lone shepherd girl 
That died upon the hill, because her lover 
Was false and fickle. 

Gair. Then I crave your grace 
Give orders for the lists, and name some peei 
To sit in judgment : 'tis for life and death. 

James. A death-feud — ha ! well, well, 'tis only Angus. 
I meddle not with lists. — My Lord of Mar, 
See justice done between these fierca-souled men ; 
Be umpire. 



so FEUDAL TIMES. [Act II. 

Coch On my knee, my sovereign liege, 
I claim exemption from the task. 

James. That's well. 
We thought you had not taste for such a scene. 

Gair. [ With a sneer.] No, faith, my liege — 

Cock. Your pardon, good my lord ; 
All shall be ready; I will move his grace 
To name some other umpire. Tell Lord Angus 
I will not fail him. [Exeunt Gair. and Lords, r, 

I would spare his heart [Looks toivards the King, 

His loving heart, the pang that this will give. 

James. What stays you, Walter ] 

Coch. 'Tis a fancied view 
Of a rich Eastern sunset; o'er the plain 
Light falls like a thick veil of golden motes. 
And flings a glow, like a whole shower of roses, 
Over the side of the vast pyramid. 
No sight beside, no motion, and no sound ; 
Silence, the desert, and the solemn height 
Of the square mound ! Heaven's eye, the failing sun, 
Will soon be closed, and Darkness shall keep watch 
Over its slumbering sister. Solitude ! 

END OP ACT I. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — The King^s Closet. — King seated, r. 

James. I ne'er was fitted for a throne like this, 
Nor struggles, nor ambition. No friend left 
But Walter — only Walter ! Albany, 
My brother — he that was my playmate once — 
Banded against me : bent, with England's aid, 
To rob me of my life, my crown, my all ! 
Why is not Walter here ] I feel my heart 
Sink in his absence. Hark ! he comes. 

Enter Queen and Margaret, l. 

Queen. [Forcing her icay.] Give place ! 
Back, churl ! I will have way ; lives are at stake — 
'Tis not too late to save them. 



ScKNEl.] FEUDAL TIMES, 21 

James. Gentle wife ! 
And you, sweet Margaret— 

Queen. We've no time for words ; 
Send and forbid the lists. 

James. I'm somewhat sad — 
I've had bad news. Let me gain happiness 
By having friends beside me, — gentle friends ; 
Yourself and our fair cousin — might I add, 
Counsellor? — Cousin and counsellor! Wisdom lies 
In that brave look, oh, deeper, calmer, opener, 
Than in the purblind eyes of chancellors, 
As heaven shines clearer on a river's breast 
Than in a reedy fen. Come, counsel me. 

Queen. Nay, she shall give you counsel afterwards ; 
Meantime send heralds to forbid this duel. 

James. I may not, sweet ; 1 gave my word to Gairlies 
That Cochrane should appoint a dernier judge, 
And I suppose he's done't. — Now, pretty Margaret — 
But you're sedate to-day ! Not even a smile 
To be the seraph v/atch at the closed door 
Where speech lies buried ? 

Queen. Oh, bethink you, James ! 
You are a man — a King ! A deed this aay 
Is done, might shame the savage in the wild ; 
There will be murder — 'tis to the death they fight. 

James. Oh, Angus has a son, or nephew; fear not; 
There will be some one left to bear his name 
If he should fall, and ride upon his horse, 
And trample on his foes. The other man — 

Queen. Have you no care for him % 

James. He's a stout arm, 
A capital seat on a horse, and a quick eye ; 
I tell you that at hazard. One thing more : 
I speak at random — I will bet my crown 
The sun will rise to-morrow in good time 
If both are in their graves. — Sweet Margaret, 
You hear how careful our good queen has grown 
Of our stout liege's limbs. I wotted not 
Old Angus had such favour in fair eyes. 

Queen. 'Tis not for Angus. Oh, leave off this humoui ; 
Send and forbid this meeting ! 

James. Do you hear her % 



22 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act II. 



What says my counsellor, my gentle cousin ? 

Marg. I say, forbid it not. 

Queen. Girl, girl, you're mad ! 
Your hatred and dislike of Cochrane blind you. 

James. Do you dislike him 1 Is there in human shape 
One that can hate him 1 but you know him not. 

Queen. She rails on him for ever. Can your hate 
Find nothing but his blood to quench its firel 

James. Whose blood] I pray you tell me who it is 
That you so hate ; tell me, ray pretty friend; 
And if an ounce or two will put it out, 
Why we will send the barber to him straight, 
And prick him into favour with a lancet. 

Marg: Your grace has asked my counsel ; this it is : 
Lay not a bar between them and their feud. 
For one, his prayer — if he e'er thinks of prayer — 
Is for a bloody shroud : if he should fall, 
He dies an honoured death. The other bears 
A creslless helm ; 'twere well he seized his crest 
From one who wears the proudest : if he lives, 
The envious tongue is silenced ; if he dies, 
*Tis but a- life the less — a life unprized. 
Since thrown among rough natures like these men's — 
Among them, but not of them« 

James. Who is this 1 
Who is the man you mean ? You startle me. 

Marg. You made him Earl of Mar — 'tis Walter Coch- 
rane. 

James. To fight— to fight with Angus ! Cochrane fi^ht )^ 
And risk his life — 'tis not his own, 'tis mine — 
Against mere bone and sinews, like the brutes ! 
Stop it ! ho, Warder \ Warder ! If he dies, 
I'll raze the name of Angus from the earth ! — - 
Warder ! 

Marg. Call not the Warder. 

James. But I will — 
To play me false like this ! Angus is known 
For the best lance in Scotland ; he will die — 
Warder ! — they'll bring him in a stiffened corse ; 
If I had knov/n— when was the course to be ] 

Queen. I heard the trumpet as I crossed the couit, 

James. 'Tis in the park ; I think I might arrive 
Before they run. 



Scene I.] FEUDAL TIMES. 23 

Marg. Go not, my gracious liege. 

James. Why not'? they dare not fight, if I command. 

Queen. You should have spoken when I asked you. 

James. Woman ! 
You know not what you've done by keeping back 
The name of Cochrane : if I had thought 'twas he — 
I'll stop them yet. 

Marg. Nay, thus I bar your way. 
Think what dishonour you would fling for ever 
On him you wish to serve ! If he recoils, 
Better he ne'er had knowm a noble thought, 
Or heard of gallant deeds, or raised his head 
'Mong knightly men — though rugged, they've no fear — 
Than that a whisper should connect his name 
With the vile word that shames a woman's lip — 
A coward ! 

James. But they know he is as brave 
As Milan steel. If you feel tenderly 
For Walter — 

Marg. [Coldly.'] Sir, 'tis for his sake I spoke. 
For his and yours — to me he is a thing 
Valueless, worthless. 

Jarnes. Let me forth, I say. YTrumpet sounds. 

Ha, what was that % It was a trumpet-call. . 
Too late, too late ! Stop, from that window-ledge 
Above the dais we see the lists, up, up ! 
I cannot bear the sight. What see you now % 

Marg. [On the ledge.] A crowd, but nothing clear; the 
level sun 
Is flashed in thousand rays from casque and sword. 

James. The horsemen ! See you not the horsemen » 
girl? 

Marg. A tall grey horse, with mane in wavy folds, 
Is pawing the hot ground, while, calm and fixed 
A knight, with loosened rein, gives action free 
To the proud tossing of his head. 

James. 'Tis he ! 
That's Walter's barb ! 

Marg. The other rides a horse 
Coal black, except a white star 'tween the eyes, 
And seems to try his stirrups and the girths, 
Balancing to and fro. [ Trumpet again. 



24 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act II. 



•James.; Another sound ! 

Marg. A banner rises at the upper side 
Beside the great, black horse. 

James. I know it well — 
The Bloody Heart ! 

Marg. A pennon now is raised. '^ 
O'er the grey charger — blank, save in its folds 
A single star in gold. [ Trumpet sounds. 

James. Again the trumpet ! 

Ma?g. Ha, they are gone ! on, on they flash like light ; 
A shock ! 

James. What then 1 Quick, quick! 

Marg. A saddle's void; 
The horse flies loose — 

James. Which horse ] 

Marg. It is the black ! 

James. Thank Heaven for that! 'tis Angus is o'erthrown. 

Marg. Both steeds are loose. 

James. What say you 1 

Marg. Sword to sword 
They fight — 'tis nobly struck ! Oh, would to God 
I were a knight ! Again — he's down ! he's dov/n ! 

James. Who's down 1 

Marg. Lord Angus ; o'er him like a king 
Stands Mar. 

James. He's safe ! he's safe ! Cochrane is safe ! 

Marg. He stoops and raises Angus ; he takes off 
His helm ; he li£s him. Now, by Heaven above, 
A nobler man than that breathes not on earth ! 
He leads him to the tent. 

James. Hear you the shouting % 
They cannot hide their joy that he is safe. 
See you naught else % • 

Marg. The crowd begins to part, 

James. Come, then, we'll meet him. But I'll chide him, 
too : 
He must be mad to risk so rich a life 
Against a man like that. Think you not so % 

Marg. I know not, sir; 'tvv^as noble, 'twas — my head 
Feels giddy. Have T spoken against that man % 
Hold me excused from going with your grace. 

James. Haste, haste ; I long to press him to my heart ! 

\ Exeunt, l.. 



Scene II.j FEUDAL TIMES. * 25 

Scene II. — Fart of the Park. 

Enter Angus, r,, supported by Gairlies and others, Lennox 
and Lords. 

Len, A very pretty sight, upon my word !, 
I'd sooner have a tap upon the skull 
From the Tron steeple, than the thud that fell 
On Angus' helm. 1 thought Ms doom was sped— 
He was but stunned. 

Ang, Curses upon the casque, 
I am not dead ! 

Gair. How feel you, noble Angus I 

Ang, Why did that peasant slave not take my life I 
How was it, Gairlies 1 Had the chance been mine, 
He had not breathed again. I would have pla^shed 
My foot in his hot blood — I'll do it yet 
How was it I Can't you speak 1 Am I so fallen, 
So sunk, so shamed \ the arm that until now 
Was— but no more. How was it 1 Teli me all 

Gair. You were unhorsed, and Cochrane leapt to the 
ground ; 
And then you drew your blade, and then he swung 
His sword ; and if your helm v/ere not of steel 
Of finest proof, you had had your requiem sung. 

Ang. And then 1 and then 1 what did the caitiff then f 

Gair. He raised you in his arms, and bared your face. 
And tended you like a sick child, 

Ang. And this man, 
This Cochrane, having me at mercy, spared me ! 
Cochrane spared Douglas ! Would to God the helm 
Had been of tin or paper, and I had died ! 
*T had been no shame to die ; but now, to live. 
To live on Cochrane's grace, to owe iny breath 
My pitifal breath, to mortal man that lives ! 

Gair. Be calm, brave Angus. 

Ang, Calm] 1 would 1 were 
Calm in my shroud \ 

Gair. Welcome, my good Lord Bishop 

Enter Bishop, \., 
Bink. How fares his lordship I 



26 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Acrli 



Gair. [Aside to Bishop.] Comfort liim, my lord. 
If Angus loses heart, the cause is lost ; 
And Cochrane will let bloody Justice loose 
To tear us limb from limb. 

Bish. [To A?fgus.] Take comfort, lord ; 
You have long years before you, 

A?7g To what use 1 
My life is not my own. 

Bish. Then you are bought 
By politic forbearance ! 'Tis a bribe— 
The life he gave — to tie your hand forever; 
To link you to his wheel, to make you wear 
The Cochrane badge, to follow in his train, 
Ti be his menial. 

Ang. Curse upon the bribe ! 
I tell you, I would rather be a corse ; 
I cannot live to be the thing you say. 

Bish. You need not ; see you not, he dared not use 
Tiie chance that fortune gave him 1 that his art 
Was shewn in sparing] 'Twos an insult, lord. 
To bid a Douglas live and be his thrall. 

Ang. His thrall ] Great God, is Angus sunk so low ? 

Bish. Nay, if you are his J'riend, what will be said] 
That Cochrane spared you — that you're grateful to him, 
That you must love him, aid him, tend on him, 
Because he pitied you ! 

Ang. He pitied me ! / 
I will not be his friend — I'll cast his pity 
Back in his teeth.~ What right had he to spare 1 

Bish. There may be time and place to pay him back 
The grace he did you. 

Ang. Would they both were come ! 

Bish. The princely Albany, with English aid, 
Bursts into Galloway on Monday next. 
James has sent out his standard, and will name 
This Cochrane to command. 

Ajzg. He will not dare ! 
No man shall give an order, on his peril. 
Between the Esk and Nith, unless his name 
Be Douglas. 

Bis7?. But the thing is fixed, I tell you, 
And Cochrane will be leader. We must strike, 



Scene III.] 



FEUDAL TIMES. 27 



Or yield at once. 

Ang. I never could speak the word — 
That "yield." 

Bish. If once he face the enemy, 
And wins a stricken field, farewell, my lords, 
To power and state for you ; an iron hand 
Will hold the sceptre, and your day is done ; 
You will be meek, submissive chamberlains, 
Mild grooms of the stole, and pithless silver sticks ; 
Gilt pageants of a court, — but the true power 
Will be with James. The people love this man. 

1st Lord. But he shall never win a stricken field. 

Len. He cannot fight the Eng^lish by himself; 
Now, if we were to run ] — I'd do it myself 
Willingly — if we all should run and leave him ? — 
Eh!— i but hint it. 

2d Lord. Better let him try 
The sharpness of a dagger. 

Gray. Gentle lords, 
I heard my nurse tell an old history. 
How that the mice took counsel, and resolved 
To hang a bell about Grimalkin's neck. 
To warn them of her coming ; till one mouse, 
A very sensible animal, I think, 
Puzzled them all, by asking which of them 
Would risk itself within the monster's claws 
To tie the string. 

Len. My lords, I'm not a mouse ; 
But if I were, and Cochrane were a tabby, 
I would not face his claw for all the world ! 

Ang. Leave it to me, my lords, I'll bell the cat. 

[Slwuting outside. 

Gair. Ha ! shouts for Cochrane's triumph ! Come, my 
lord, ^ ^ 

He must not see you thus. 

Ang. But he shall see me — 
I have to thank him for his courtesy ; 
I would it were in fitter guise than words. [Exeunt, ii. 

Scene III. — Before Llolyrood. 

Shouting continued. — Enter Cochrane, l., his hanner car- 
ried, before him, his helmet on a cushion, and two Esquires, 



28 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act II. 

with sword, shield, b^c, folloived by tlte people, Enter, 
in a separate group, Angus, Gairlies, and. otJiers. 

Cock, \ To the cro?vd.\ Kind friends, I tliank you for 
your company, 
1 pray you, leave me to return alone. 

Gair. There goes the rascal commons at his heels. 

Ang. [To Cochrane, who is ■pO'Ssing out. \ Sir, sir! 

\Coclirane retar?is. 
I have to thank you for my life ; 
An 'twere more prized, my thanks were heartier. 

Coch, The king can ill afford so proud a name, 
Or brave a sword, as calls Lord Angus wearer. 
We are our king's and country's — not our own. 

Ang. But having given thanks for what I prize not — • 
Seeing it loses what small worth it had, 
E'en in the thanking — 1 would have you count 
On nothing more : we are not friends. 

Coch. And yet 
We may be friends of something dear to both. 

Gair. [To Angus\ What thing is that that Master .Coch- 
rane means ] 

Ang. Call him Lord Mar; he's worthy of the belt. 
That held a Douglas under his sword-point. — 
My lord, I know your meaning ; we may both 
Serve Scotland, though sworn foe men to each other. 

Coch. Do that, and hate me as you can. 

Ang. I've said 
My say ; I tell you, we are foes to the death. 

Cork. There breathe few other men would say that word 
And live ; but a stout hand and open tongue 
Come girt with rugged safety to my heart. 
I trust the sacred office of my lord [Alluding to Bishop. 
Will teach you kinder thoughts — and so, farewell ! 

[Going. 
Enter James, r. 

James. Walter ! and safe ! Oh, how you wronged me, 
Walter ! 

Coch. [Kneels.] My liege. 

James. Up from your knee, t'my heart, t'my heart ! 
And not a wound 1 How dare you, Lord of Mar, 
Transgress our orders ? — but you are not touched ? — 



Scene III.] 



FEUDAL TIMES. 29 



We shall take measure for your punishment. 
Oh, Walter ! had you fall'n, what could I do 
With the cold scowling of our lords ! 

CocJi. Your grace 
Will pardon my ambition to cross swords 
With such a knight as Angus. 

James. Such a knight ! 
Why, I could knight a thousand such a-day, 
And make them dukes and earls ; but you, dear friend, 
So wisej so deep, so elevate of soul — 
How dared ytju fight without our royal will % 
We'll put you in close ward. — And you, rash man, 
How dared you lift your sacrilegious hand 
On a high nature like Lord Mar's — our friend ] 

Ang. My liege, 1 saw a glove, and took it up. 

CocJi. True : on my knee I plead for Angus' pardon j 
I was in fault, hot, heedless, and jDrovoked : — 
I was the challenger. 

James. \To Apg?is.] If you had touched 
One hair, I would have borrowed a lion's heart, 
And torn you where you stand ! — But it is past. 
Match you with rufflers like yourself; I'll find 
Some way shall tame you. — Come, my Lord of Mar. 

Coch. Not till you've pardoned Angus. 

James. Pardoned him ! 
The man that tried to rob me of my guide, 
My aid, my stay ! 

CocJi. You pardon both or none. 

James. Well, from our heart we pardon you, Lord An- 
gus, .. 
And trust to have your aid in our good cause 
Ere long. 

Gair. Sit down. Lord Angus, you are faint. 

Ang. No ! if the standing racked me with hot pains 
Forever, as they do now, I would not show 
By look or sign that Douglas owned a pang. 
Farewell, Sir King ; farewell, my Lord of Mar. 
I own you for a knight expert in arms ; 
But an' my horse had equalled your grey steed, 
The issue might have changed. 

Coch. You'like the horse ? 

Ang. No knicrht e'er crossed a nobler. 






30 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act II 



Cocli. My brave horse, 
My gallant grey ! I rode him in the field 
At Reggio, with the Southern chivalry, 
When we o'erthrew the turbaned Saracen : — 
A soul of fire, a heart of gentleness, 
A courage like a king's — My stately barb ! — 

\To an attendant. 
Carry Grey Julian to Lord Angus' stable. — 
My lord, he'll bear you with a step more proud, 
Since he supports a Douglas and brave man. 
Farewell. [Exeunt James and Cochrane, r. 

Ang. I cannot take his horse. 

Gair. Why not % 
'Tis worth a thousand crowns. 

Bish. Another bribe 
To win you to his service. 

Gair. Take the horse; 
He knows he has no right to such a steed. 

Ang, I cannot tell— there's something strange in this ; 
There never was a king with such an air. 
Or opener hand. I'll think upon it. Come. [Exeunt,!.. 

% END OF ACT II. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — A Room in Holyrood. 

James, Cochkane, and Lord Drummond, r. — James gloo- 
my and depressed. 

Cocli. AVhat said the learned bishop 1 Droop not so. 

James. He warned me of false friends; he said the stars 
Prophesied evil. 

Cocli. Has the earth no poison, 
That he must wrong the heavens 1 The stars on high 
Fulfil their courses, — clear, unfailing, calm — 
Reckless of what w^e do on this poor globe ; 
And if they give a lesson, 'tis but this — 
To walk in high serene tranquillity 
On our appointed paths, as they on theirs. 



x\ 



Scene I.j 



FEUDAL TIMES. 31 



James. False friends, he said. I have no friend but. yoM] 
. I told him so ; and then he shook his head 
A.nd prayed. Ah, Walter, if the stars speak truth ] 

Coch. I've given orders to receive the stars, 
And hostile planets, and opposed conjunctions, 
In fitting guise ; Caerlaverock is well stored ; 
The Borders guarded ; a stout company 
On Lauder Bridge. If you advance your banner, 
I think the heavens will smile before a week, 
And the lord bishop read their lessons better. 

James. But will our liegemen follow '?- 

Cocli. Try them, sir! 
Lead them ! 'Tis a poor heart that will not follow. 
When 'tis well led. 

James. What, I ? Is there no way 
To close this feud ] What is it Albany wants % 
They tell me he but asks our love again ; 
Oh, if he ask but that — 

Cocli, Who tell you this 1 
You have not heard of Albany's truth from Angus ? 

James. No. 

Cocli. He's too brave for falsehood, 

James. But he'll bear 
Hatred for what has happ'd. 

Cock. A heart like his, 
If 'tis the heart I think it, has no room 
For thought so base : no, sir ; our strife shall be 
Which shall be foremost in our country's service; 
We shall be foes no longer. - 

James. You are like 
The sun, dear Walter, all compact of light. 
And bright'ning what it looks on, till it shines 
As with a separate fire. I like not Angus. 

Coch. He's rough in speech, but true in heart and han^i 
The lords await your grace. 

James. Come with me. 

Coch. Nay; 
I'll follow in brief space. Shew them their King — - 
Bear you a royal front ; tell them your sword 
Shall shine the foremost, and your steed tread first 
Upon an English corse. 

James. Bring the full guard — 



32 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act IF 

I like it not ; where are their lordships now 1 

Coch. There — in the park. Fear not for Angas' faith j - 
I'll answer for his zeal. 

James, Would it were past ! 
They're in the park, you say, \Exitf r. 

Drum. I think his grace 
Looks downcast, though so near a stirring day. 

Coch. You have forgot, my lord, that a king's heart 
Ts not as ours. He has a father's grief, 
Who sees his son in danger of his life : 
His sobjects are his children. Pray you, follow, 
And give him comfort. [Exit Lord Drummond, r.] All are 

ranged in wrath, 
And pour their hate on me. Oh, why for this 
Left I the sunny land, the golden souths 
The birth-place of high thoughts and noble men ! 
But James, the loving king, the trustful heart, 
I will not leave his side,, though at his side 
I know the gi^ave lies open. All against me!! 
Lennox, the Queen, and the pure, noble heart 
Of Margaret Randolph ! If she knew my thought. 
How for no pride, nor avarice, nor ambition, 
1 toiled and struggled ! — when the strife is o'er. 
She'll know how she has wronged me. Ts't, then, so ? 
Beats there no heart in all this troubled land 
In unison Vv^ith mine % Angus, brave Angus 1 
One effort more to win so stout an arm! 
I'll see him: he is harsh, and cold^ and proud ; 
But bears too high a name to stoop so low 
As play the traitor to his trusting king. [Exit, l. 

Scene II. — A Room in the Talace. 
Margaret and Lady Drurimond discovered, r. 

Marg. Dear Drummond, are you sure the Queen is 
changed^ 
And hates this man 1 Why does she hate him 1 

LcuhjD. Why] 
I marvel you should ask ; a man like him ! 
His fathere have been vassals of the Comyns, 
Or tenants of the abbey-lands of Perth, 
Or something else, I can't remember what. 



Scene II.] 



FEUDAL TIMES. 33 



Marg. And therefore the Queen hates him ? 

Lady D. To be sure. 

Ma?g. Oh ! 

Lady D. Don't you hate the man yourself] 

Marg. Who 1 1 1 
Of course, of course ; but what has changed the Queen ? 
vShe did not hate him ] nay, she chided me 
Because I spoke so harshly of Lord Mar : 
T did speak harshly — harshly, very harshly. 

Lady D. Oh, you were always such a meny girl ; 
When you but heard his name — and the poor king — 
His puppet ! his poor toy ! 'twas jDretty sport 
To hear how you described them. 

Marg. Was it so ? 

Lady D. But you look serious now. Is it because 
He took some vantage over poor old Angus 1 

Marg. Vantage ! what vantage, save what his bold 
heart 
And his stout arm bestowed ? What moves the Queen 
To hate that man ? 

Lady D. She thinks he rules the King 
Too much ; that it were better to bring back 
The Duke of Albany, the good king's brother. 

Marg. The man that fawns on England ] the base man, 
The traitorous, cruel, lurking, false-tongued man. 
That trusts to foreign swords to force his way 
Over Scotch corses to the Scottish crown % 
No ! I say no ! I tell you, I say no ! 

Lady D. Margaret, what ails you 1 why, your eye's 
on fire. 
Your hand is shaking; what's the matter, girl ] 

Marg, Where's Angus 1 he is brave — oh ! ask me not 
Why my hand shakes ; if it wore mailed glove. 
It would not shake. Where is the Earl of Angus'? 

Lady D. I think he's in the park ; the other lords 
Hold council. 

Marg. Do they ? They hold council ! 
Now in the name of heaven and all the saints, 
What need of counsel now, when the foe stands 
In very act to spring on our poor land ] 
Council ! pah ! there's no time for council now. 
I'll see the Earl of Ansfus. 



34 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act III 

hady D. Wait awhile > 
I'll go with you : put on your hood and veil. 

Marg. No! as I am ! — Counsel ! I scorn the word ! 
Follow me, Drummond. If the queen takes part 
With Albany, and frowns upon Lord Mar — 
James is so easily led — I'll see Lord Angus. [Exeunt, r. 

Scene IW.— The Park. 
Ente?- Gairlies, Gray, Lennox, Bishop, a?id Lords, l. 

Gair. This Cochrane has wrought marvels on the king 
BisJi. I tell you, sirs, there's something more in this 

Than comes of mortal guiding. He has help 

From all the fiends. 

Enter A.NGVS,frojn heliind, r. 

Arig, Then he has goodly friends : 
We'll try and get some devils of our own ; 
He can't have got them all. 

BisJi. You'll find it true. 

Ang. [To the Lords.] What happened at your meeting? 

Gair. Hang your sword 
On an old nail. 

Gray. Take off your spurs, brave Angus. 

A7ig. Look you, my lords: I know not what you mean ; 
But if it be because my spear broke short 
On Cochrane's breastplate, I will shew your lordships. 
Which ever of you chooses to essay it, 
That I've another spear of sharper point: 
Who answers me 1 

BisJi. 'Tis not of that, brave Angus; 
'Tis that this Cochrane, by the secret aid 
Of the foul fiend — 

Ang. Psha! Is it only that % 
What said the king 1 

Gair. That we must all advance 
To guard the Border against Albany. 

Ang. I will not move an inch. AVhat else, my lord '? 

Gair. Cochrane has seized on eveijy Border strength ; 
Caerlaverock — Annan Tower — the Hermitage — 

Ang. Ha ! 

Gair. And the fords of Esk, and Tweed, and Nith. 



Scene III.] FEUDAL TIMES. 



35 



Ang. Now by my soul, he bears him like a man ! 
Pity he will not live to boast of it ! 

Gair. If you should fail, mi?- daggers will make sure, 

A7?.g. I shall not fail. — [To liimself\ And yet he's- of 
stout heart ; 
I wish he did not lie in Douglas* way. 

Gray, Our swords will aid. 

Bisli. I put him in the ban 
As a fiend's friend ; who slays him is a friend 
To us and Rome. 

Ang. Aid ! aid ! — I want no aid, 
Nor ban, nor Rome ! Listen, my good lord bishop : 
I know the sort of slaying pleases best 
Our holy mother Church : a quiet stab 
Where no one sees ; a sleeping draught too strong ; 
An eyeless dungeon in some hidden tower : 
I'll have no deed like this to please the Church. 
This Cochrane is a Man_, and as a man, 
And by a man, he shall be slain. This arm 
Shall do the deed. It is no fameless thing, 
A brave man's doom. That man's a foe to me 
That takes this from me. Be he priest or earl, 
The man that slays Lord Mar, till I am by, 
Dies by this hand. 

As Angus is going out, enter Cochrane, l., ivitli Attend- 
ants and the Royal Banner. 

Coch. The king departed ! — Angus ! 

Gair. Here's Cochrane. 

Cock. I would speak to you, my Lord. 

Ang. Were you a spy, my lord ? for if you were, 
And heard my'words — 

CocJi. I heard you not. 

Gair. [ To the Lords.] Hush ! hush ! 

Aiig. I told your lordship when I saw you last, 
We were not- friends : I am not to be bought 
Even by the worthless life you left to me. 

Coch. Bought, my good lord 1 oh, 'twere of priceless 
worth. 
The heart of a brave man in this our need. 
L fain would buy you, but as noble hearts 
Are l3ouf?ht — by noble trust. 



36 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act III 



Ang. Trust me no trust ; 
I know what place is mine, or should be mine. 

Coch. Your place, Lord Angus'? Should your place be 
here, 
When every plain and strath in Douglasdale 
Echoes with tramp of horse and sound of horn ? 

Ang. Who sounds the horn % Who rides the horse 1 

Coch. True Scots, 
Who look with longing for the leadership, — 
Of Angus. 

Ang. But I hold no leadership; 
There's one holds that, that spells a different name 
From Douglas. 

CocJt. No, not so. The Douglas' cry 
Shall cleave the foeman's van, like a bold hawk 
Piercing a summer cloud; that other name 
Will sound but as a man's who loved his king, 
And wished — proud wish ! — to die in the defence 
Of the UD conquered soil that gave him birth. 
You should not think so harshly of that name. 

Ang. Sir, Douglas will take care of his own name ; 
Do you the same of yours. 

Coch. \To the Lords.] And you, my lords 1 

Ang. They do as I do; not a man of them 
Stirs southward. 

Coch. Then, by heaven ! — but patience yet. 

Enta- Margaret, l., she stands aj)art. 

I pray you, noble Angus, pause awhile 
Ere you reject the offer of a love 
That v/ill be lasting; for it takes its strength 
From duty, from regard ; here is my hand ; 
You take the king's true love as well as mine. 

Ang. [R.ejeciing the hand.] The king, sir, should have 
thought of this before ; 
He had his nobles ready, sword and spear, 
And he chose others. 

Coch. But you leave the land 
Naked, defenceless — England's mock and scorn, 
Albany's spoil. 

Ang. Gramercy, sir, make haste 
]f you have more to say. Fve t Id the kin.s;-, 



Scene III.] 



FEUDAL TIMES. 37 



I've told yourself, we'll have no upstart here 

To outface the oldest names. Do I speak plain ? 

Coch. My lord, I will not say what I have heard, 
Of acts and threatenings that 'twere shame to speak, 
Linked with the honoured name of Angus. 

Ang.^ Well! 
Speak or no speak, it makes no boot to me : 
I've told you my resolve. 

Coch. Then you refuse 
Your following to the Border ? 

Ajig. Till I am asked 
By some one better worthy of my answer. 

Marg. \ Coming forivard.] Then answer me ! 

Coch. The Lady Margaret ! 

Ang. Rash girl ! pert minx ! go, mind your wheel. 

Marg. When men 
Kkow not their duty, it is time, my lord, 
For women to do theirs. A danger threatens — 
Douglas hangs back, and calls himself a Douglas! 
Take you another name, Lord Angus. 

Ang. To your seam ! 
You speak like Master Cochrane. 

Marg. For 1 feel 
Like the Earl of Mar. 

Ang. Remember, pray you, madam, 
Who 'tis you are ; you bear no nameless name. 

Marg. Nor wavering heart ! Angus ! for shame, Lord 
Angus ! 
To hear the clarion sounding for the battle, 
And keep you from the van ! Have you forgotten 
How good Sir James took Robert Bruce's heart, 
In a rich silver casket locked and barred, 
Among the heathen Saracens of Spain ; 
And when the fight v/as thickest, flung the heart 
Into the midst, and said to it, " Lead on 
As thou wert wont, Douglas will follow thee!" 
And so he did, and slew the infidels 
Till he was slain ; he was your ancestor ; 
For shame, for shame ! 

Coch. yTo the Lords.] There spoke the Randolph 
voice ! 
There beat the Randolph heart ! hear you her v/ords, 

D 



38 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act III 



And falter in your duty 1 

M-arg. Angus ! Angus ! 
Oh, if I were a man, I would not speak — 
No, I would act ; but bearing a weak hand, 
I give my tongue its way; 1 wara you, Angus, 
You cast the pedestal from 'neath your feet — 
You and your lordly friends — on which you stand ! 
You cast the golden chance away from you, 
That makes your interest and your country's one. 
It may not come again : close with Lord Mar — 
March with the king. Would I might march with you! 
Would I might see the banner of my house 
Flap in the breeze above the helmed heads 
Of steel-clad Randolphs ! 

Ang. But you shall not, girl ; 
Nor James, nor Cochrane; not a man of them. 
Shall move without my order. 

Marg. Stop me not ! 
They sball ! they shall! Here, who will be my knight ? 
Who'll lead my men 1 There shall not one remain 
Lurking like laggard cowards ! Are ye all ,- 
Struck dumb by the bold frowning of this man ? 
Who'll take my scarf? 

Ang. I think, not one of them ; 
I think they know the pei'il they were m 
Too well for that. 

Coch. [Kneeling to Margaret.^ Oh, lady, at your feet 
I kneel ; I'm all unworthy but to touch 
The scarf that bears the colours of the Randolph ; 
But I will wear it as some sacred thing, 
Some banner that has gathered in its folds 
The treasured blessino-s of all holy saints ! 

Ma?g. And lead the men 1 Into the front of battle ] 
Here, take the scarf — summon them to your power ! 

^4??^. Now, by my soul, this insult is the last ! 
I tell you — off with base concealment nov/ 1 — 
Death shall resolve this strife. The man, by heaven, 
That spurns a Douglas, dies ! 

Coc/k Take back defiance ! 
Friendship I've offered twice, you've scorned it twice ; 
Now look you to yourselves. The swnrd is drawn — 
Beware its edge ! 



ScEKE III.] FEUDAL TIMES. 39 

Ang. Mine has an edge as well. — 
C:)me, girl, come with me ; you shall learn your place. 

Marg. My place is here. 

Coch. [To standai'd-bearer.] Advance the royal banner ! 
[The hanner is held over Margaret's head. 
Lady, you are in safeguard of the King ! 
Who moves a step, who lifts an arm, by heaven 
His doom is sped. Round her a ring is drawn 
Of duty, trust, allegiance ; back, I say ! 
Who oversteps it, dies ! 

Ang. Come, 1 command you ; 
Come ! 

Marg. What, a traitor give command to me 1 
Oh, I have that within should bear me up 
Against a thousand renegades like you ; 
Go ! 

Ang. You shall answer for this thing. 

[Exeunt Angtis and Lords^ r. 

Len. O ho ! 
I'll join this Cochrane. Angus has no chance. 
I wish my fingers had had blisters on't 
Before I signed. I'll speak to him. [Exit, u. 

Marg. Lord Mar ! 
I think you knew me not till now ; even now 
I think you do not know me, what I am : 
I'm not the bold-to,ngued thing 1 seemed to be 
When Angus moved me ; I would have you think me 
Different from that ; you do me wrong. Lord Mar ; 
But I deserve your thoughts. 

Coch. I've thought on you 
As on some loftier nature ! gazed on you 
As on the sculptured forms that fill with awe 
The heart and brain — immortal deities, 
Worshipped by those brave workers of old Time, 
Who clothed the utterings of their inner heart 
In shapes of outward beauty. Majesty 
Shone on your brow, as on the marble front 
Of heaven's imperial Juno ; Purity 
Lived in your eyes, as in the stately look 
Of loftiest Dian ; and — but pardon, lady, 
I know not what I say ; it matters not 
What thoughts are mine — I pray you, pardon me. 



40 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act iii. 

Marg. Pardon you, Mar ? Pardon is not the word; 
You saved me from Lord Angus — raised me up 
To thoughts that were above me. Ah, Lord Mar, 
The orphan pardons not — she thanks you. 

Coch. Nay, 
Pardon is what I ask — I ask no more ; 
If I have been too bold — but foes are nigh. 

[Gives Margaret to the Guards. 
Answer the Randolph's safety with your lives. 
My sword is near ; lead onward to the king. 

[Exeunt half the Guards and Margaret^ l. 

Re-enter Lennox, r. 

Jjen. My gracious Earl of Mar, I hope your lordship 
Will spare me one half second. 

Coch. What d'ye want % 
I'm busy. [Going. 

Lien. My good lord, pray para on me, 
'Tis on the king's affairs. 

Coch. Say on, my lord. 

Lten. My lord, draw this way ; farther yet, my lord. 
I can do James a service — such a service 
As never has been done by mortal man 
To a king before. 

Coch. Draw back, good Cunningham. 

[Eixeunt Guards., l. 
What is the service % 

Lien. He might give his crown 
To know the service ; and yourself, my lord — 
It touches you no less. 

Coch. Think not of that. 
What service is it you can do the king % 

Len. I must have promise ere I do it. Life 
Hangs on it, and death ! the very hour I speak, 
I risk ray safety ; if a word were known — 
Nay, if they saw me here — come more this way — 

Coch. Lord Lennox, you have come to me unasked ; 
You tell me you can serve the king. 

Len. I can ; 
E'ut 1 must have sure guerdon for the deed. 

Coch. What is it'? You say life is on the cast, 
And yet you talk of guerdon ! What is it \ 



Scene in.] FEUDAL TIMES. 41 

Land 1 titles 1 money 1 Name the sum, my lord ; 

Is it by weight you sell your services, 

Or length or breadth '? What is your price, I say ] 

Len. Look not so fierce, talk not so loud, Lord Mar: 
You know that illbany is on the Border 
With a strong English force ? 

Coc/i. Ay. 

Le?i. Well, my lord, — 
But will you answer that his grace consent 
To grant my suit 1 

Cock. Go on, go on. 

Len. And you, 
You'll aid me, too ] 

Coch. Say on, and have no fear. 

Len. Well, Albany has dealings with our chiefs — 
With me — myself — I can't deny the fact — 
With Gairlies, Seton, Gray — with all of us. 

Coch. Not all, think better ; not with all — remember. 

Le)i. Yes, all — except, of course. King James's friends, 
Crawford and Drummond — but except these two, 
All. 

CocJi. No, not all. I think there beats one heart 
Too proudly for such deed — though that same heart 
Loves me not — there's no treachery finds place 
In gallant Angus ! 

Len. He withholds his power ; 
He will not aid the array. 

Coch. But traffics not 
With bribes and dealings with false Albany. 

Len. Oh, but he does. He'll forth this very night 
To the Southern March to join the English force : 
He's got the coin. 

Coch. No, no ! 

Len. Think of the risk, 
And I am sure you'll never grudge the price 
I ask for what I do. 

Coch. 1 think of it. 
You risk your life by treason to these men, 
And ransom it from treason to the king. 
For what you say of Angus — mark me, sir, 
It cannot be ; the brave have higher thoughts. 

I en. My lord, the banished Albany has sent 



42 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act III 

His missives to us all. The lords are banded. 
To give no aid to James ; the English king 
Gives help to Albany, and claims the crown 
As suzerain lord. The duke has given consent 
To hold it in full homage : I've the d-eed 
For signature ; already there are names — 

Cocli. The renegades ! the traitors ! Give it me. 
Where is the deed 1 

Jjpn. But is the guerdon granted ? 

Coch. Name it. But give the deed. 

Ijtn. That his good grace 
Would give me Angus' v/ard, the Lady Margaret ; 
And you must recommend the suit, my lord, 
Angus consents that I should v^ed the girl, 
But claims one half her lands — the best half, too • 
. Now, if a manor or two — 

Cocli. \^Aside.\ Give patience, Heaven ! 
And keep me from hot sin on this man's life ! 

Len. Play not so fiercely with the dagger heft; 
The king is guardian in chief; his grace 
Must give the estates in full. 

Codi. Where is the deed % 

Lien. In ray glove sleeve. 

Coch. Lord Lennox, look on me; 
You'll see no jesting spirit in my eyes : 
You go not hence alive till you've resigned 
That deed. 

Len. Alive ! you mean it not, my lord, 
I w^ould not grudge — 

Coch. If, ere you breathe thi-ee times. 
You lay it not within my hand, you die. 
By Heaven ! I'd think it sport and happiness 
To spurn you into ashes with my heeL 
Give me that deed. 

JLeyi. There, take it. 

Coch. Cunningham ! 

Enter Cunningham and Guard, l. 

Keep the Lord Lennox in close ward : one word, 
One sign, one motion, cleave him to the chin. 
Away ! 

\Ije.nnox is led. off^ l. Tears open the deed and rcaap. 



Gray — Gairlies — Angus ! — C4otl Ijoforc I 

Treason shall pay its penalty in death ! 

The loftiest head the first ! Justice, bare-armed, 

Shall steep the proudest of their crests in blood. [Exit, 

Ex\D OP ACT III. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — A Hall in Angus' House. 

Angus, Gairlies, Gray, Sfc, discovered. A Table, Gob- 
lets, $rc. 

Ang. If he had fifty devils at his back, 
He shall not daunt me thus ! The Randolph's knight ! 
Before my very eyes to wear her badge, 
And summon her array ! No, by St. Bride 1 
He shall not trample on us so. Lie still, [To Ms sword. 
T feel you panting iii the sheath. 

Gair. My lord, 
Reflect— it's madness to go on. 

Ang. Oh, is it ] 
We're all a little mad in Liddesdale. 

Gair. H'm — maybe so ; 'twere wiser to repent. 

Ang. Repent ! the Douglas does not know the wo^d, 
Save to some shav'ling priest at shriving time ; 
But if you faint in heart, and quake at the knees, 
And tremble and look pale — 

Gair. You know me, Angus, 
Too well for that; I only wished we had found 
Some other way to reach our aim. 

Ang. No, by the rood ! 
Short shrift, quick end. I hate your " other ways." 
I see a deer, I stab it in the throat — 
I see a wolf. I spear it ere it springs — 
I see a man, I slay him where he stands : 
I like no " other wa3^s" to reach my aim. 

Gair. We're ready to obey you. What's your plan ] 

Ang. My train now waits me at the nether port ; 
And by good spurring, I may sound the horn 



44 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act IV 



In Nithsdale yet, and rouse the Douglases 
To meet this Cochrane ere he sees the Esk. 
There are twelve hundred spears in Douglas' train ; 
I trust Lord Mar will find their points more sharp 
Than he found mine. And so, farewell, my lords. 

[ Going. 
Enter Herald, r. 

J^erald. The king sends greeting to the Earl of Angus; 
You are his prisoner. He will speak your doom 
Ere fleets an hour. 

Ang. My train — my train ! 

Herald. The king 
Has sent them forward, save some twenty spears, 
To Lauder. 

Ang. Was it James did this, my friend 1 

Herald. I had my message from the Earl of Mar, 

[Exit, R. 

Ang. Fill me a stoup of wine ! A prisoner — 
The Malvoisie from Paris — Cochrane thought 
To cheat me of ray stirrup-cup. [Squire gives cup.\ Poui* 

on ! 
Let it shine upward to the brim. [Drinks.^ This cup 
Was given by James's father to my father; 
The crown is on the lid — the Scottish crown — 
It is not half so solid as it looks. 

See ! [ Wrenches crown off the cup and crushes itj 

Speak I plain enough 1 the crown is dust ! 
It had been better for this senseless king 
To ha' let me go. It would have pleased me well 
To deal with Mar. I must go higher now. 

[Doors open, c. A flourish. 

A Herald. Room for the king ! 

Enter James, Cochrane, a?id Guards, c. 

James. What is your quest. Lord Mar 1 

Coch. I call for judgment on this traitor. 

James. Angus, 
What means this thing ] We've come expectant here, 
By the advice of our true liegeman, IMar, 
V/ho told us he would bring before our seat — 
The seat of judgment, but of justice, too — 
Traitors — he named them not — and you are here. 



SciENEl.] FEUDAL TIMES. 45 

Ang. Ay, sir, a prisoner; seized in my own hall. 
What reason has Lord Mar to call me traitor ? 
If I make bold to redd my piivate quarrel 
With the Lord Mar, Lord Mar is not yet king 
That I have heard of, to make open feud 
And a drawn sword a treason. If your grace 
Thinks quarrelling with Lord Mar a crime 'gainst you; 
And a rough man like me, that knows no more 
Than his own tongue, is to be gagged or doomed 
Because it pleases the Lord Mar, — Grod wot, 
I must submit. 

James. Say on, my Lord of Mar, 
T try to steel my heart to a high deed. 
As suits my office ; what is't he has done 1 

Cocli. What has he done '? Lord Angus, give reply — 
Here, in this awful presence, answer it. 
What have you done 1 You've given your mailed hand 
To banded traitors. You have promised aid 
To England's thrall, rebellious Albany, 
Who calls himself our king, and holds his crown 
As Edward's vassal, 

Ang. 'Tis too much, my liege ; 
I have no dainty phrases to retort, , 

Having no gift of speech : but it is false 
What this man says — I dare him to the proof. 
What I have done is this: — I have refused 
To take command from such a man as Mar 
In my own lands — Douglas for Douglasdale — 
That's what I've done. 

Coch. \^Gives the bond to James. ^ A moment's pause, my 
liege ! 
Listen. Do you hear the step of any one 
Mounting the stair ] [Steps are heard. 

Lennox, guarded, appears at door, r. 

Do you see the face, my lords, 
Of any one you know 1 

Ang. If with this hand 
I clutched his throat ! — Say on, I speak no more. 

James. Is it all true. Lord Lennox 1 Are they joined 
With our worst foes ] — their names all written here ? 

Len. Alas, 'tis true. 



46 FEUDAL TIMES. j^Act IV 

Gocli, 'Tis not in wrath I speak, 
'Tis in your service. He is no king, my liege, 
That quails before the look of bold-eyed crime. 
What need of more % Their looks confess their guilt. 
They set their lives at hazard ; and the chance 
Is theirs, that fortune might have given to you : 
They would have used their 'vantage on your life. 

Ang. 1 think^ Lord Mar's too hasty. If your grace 
Would let me whisper a few humble words — • 

Cocli. No ; on the instant order them to the axe ! 

James. My Lord of Mar, you are impatient; 

\^After a jjause of indecision. 
I'll hear him. 

Coc/i. 'No, sir. You must speak the doom 
Of them or me ; nay, in the pause, you weigh 
Move than men's lives — your very crown, your name 
Hang on the balance. If you'd have the throne 
Made honourless, a seat for shame and weakness — 
A pageant on a blood-stained theatre, 
AVhere murder revels — a poor gilded chair, 
Jostled aside by the unmannered wrath 
Of mail-clad quarrellers — while you look on, 
Voiceless, unvalued in the strife, — then go, 
Speak to Lord Angus — pardon them, my liege. 
But if you'd have the sceptre shine aloft, 
A safeguard to the lowly— a rebuke 
To haughty violence — an awful sign 
Round which, as glory gathers round a star. 
Shines the grave lustre of iVuthority — 
If you would be- a man — to strive with men — 
A king, to daunt the lawless — doom them, sir ! 
They are guilty — be you just and resolute. 

James. [After a 'pause?\ No, gentle Mar, I cannot pass 
their doom ! 
I'll follow the great lesson you have taught me. 
And rather I forgive. — You'll be true men ] 
You will not turn against us 1 

Ang. We will serve you 
As faithful liegemen. \To Cochrane.] I'm your debtor, 

Sir, 
But hope to pay you soon. 

Jaynes. \To Cochrane.] You're angry with me: 



SclaeL] feudal times. 47 

[ know that I was wrong ; but — 'twas too much — 
I had not strength. 

Ang. You'll find our lives more worth 
Than dead men's hands, if Mar had had the power 
To bend you to his aim. Get me my sword ; 
r need it yet. \Nods to Cochrane^ Till our next meeting ! 
Come, sirs. \E,xeunt Angus, Gray, (^fc, r. 

James. Go now, my lords ; I would be left alone. 

[Exeunt all hut Coclirane and James, l. — a pause. 
I cannot look at you, Lord Mar ; 1 feel 
I am not worth your friendship ; you will leave me — 
I cannot bid you stay ; yet when you're gone — 
When you breathe once again the ennobling air 
Of happier lands — you'll think upon me, Walter, 
As one who tried to reach your height, and failed ; — - 
At least, as one who loved you. 

Coch. Leave you, sir — 
You did not think it. I have but one thought — 
Your fame, your happiness. I will not leave you. 
If foes gloom round you — if the dark day comes 
When grief, when danger gather over you — 
Strive with it ; I will aid you in the strife ; 
There shall be one voice near to comfort you, 
One arm to guard, one man to die for you I 

James. Will you not leave me % — oh, I'm happy now ! — 
Still stay with me, advise me, strengthen me 1 
Oh, Walter, let my tears speak what I feel, 
And cannot say. 

Coch. Come, cheer you, sir, — e'en now 
'Tis not too late. So kind a heart as yours 
Wins loving service. Angus will ride forth 
To join the array. You must precede him, sir 
The royal flag must float o'er town and tower. 

James. We shall set forward — oh, this very hour — 
And reach the camp before the dawn of day. 
Go to the Lady Margaret — bid her summon 
Her clansirien from the following of Angus. 
And you'll not leave me ! I scarce hoped for it ; 
I have no words for thanks. Rejoin me soon. yExit, l. 

Cocli. Good, kind — too good, too kind. The time 
draws near 
That ends this weary struggle. Let it come. \EiXity e. 



48 FEUDAL TIMES. - [Act IV. 

Scene II. — A Room in Holyrood. 
Margaret and Lady Drummond discovered. 

Lady D. I cannot bear to see you weep. Weep not, 
Dear Margaret. 

Marg. Who was it told you I was weeping % 
1 weep not ; if a tear come to my eye, 
'Tis not of grief 

Lady D, And what said Angus to you ? 

Marg. He did not say; he barked, he grunted, bel- 
lowed, 
A dog, a boar, a bull — no man, no man. 
I tell you, Drummond, if this hand — ah, me, 
That it's so soft and small ! — if it had held 
A dagger, he'd ha' spoke in different tones — 
He would, I tell you ! 

Lady D. Margaret, are you mad ] 

Marg. Perhaps I am, and therefore bear with me ; 
Bear with me, Drummond, let me lean on you ; 
Give me a heart to trust to, if I weep. 
But no, T will not weep. 

Lady D. And so Lord Mar 
Stood by you ; and he wears the Randolph colours. 
Oh, he's so wise, that man ! I've heard them say. 
Too wise. 

Marg, Ah, Drummond, know you this, — that men 
Who go far down into the deep earth's caves, 
Down, down in darkness, out of sight and sound. 
Look up through the thick night, and see the heaven 
All filled with stars at mid-day ; — great bright stars, 
That purblind eyes, blinking in the hot light, 
See not 1 

Lady D. Indeed 1 

Marg. And so, perhaps, 'tis well 
Not to live ever in the noonday sun, 
But see the starlight in deep caves. 

Lady D. Indeed ] 
There is a sound, as if your words had meaning, 
But I can't catch it. 

Marg. Then, another thing: 
I've heard, that when the traveller climbs the ridge 



SCEITE IL] FEUDAL TIMES. 4l 

Of some far mountain, piercing the blue sky, 
Up, up, far up in heaven — that on the top 
Sound is not, and a dull, dead silence reigns. 
Ever— -for ever in the unsyllabled air. 

Ladij D. Well, Margaret 1 

Marg. So, perhaps, the lowlier born 
Catch voices that ne'er reach to such a height 
As kings and nobles strain for. 

Lady -D, You're above me, — - 
I know not what you say ; I wish you'd tell me 
Some pretty tale instead. 

Marg. A pretty tale i 
How Lady Drummond jogged along through life; 
Did what her mother told her when a child ; 
Married, because her father wished her married; 
Follows her lord's commands, because it's right ; 
Goes oft to mass, because the church requires it ; 
Fasts all through Lent, and eats but fish on Fridays; — = 
A happy, pleasant, easy, dear good woman, — 
Who'd gape and quake as if she saw a spirit, 
If a great Thought — a thing that fills the heart. 
That lifts the soul, that shakes the poor frail limbs — 
Entered her brain, flushed her pale brov/ and cheeks. 
And filled her eye with tears. But, silly girl. 
Why do I talk of tears 1 See, I'm not sad. 
What I have here, may make me grave, calm, bold. 
Not sad ; and therefore, Drummond, mark me welly 
['ve done with tears. 

Enter an Attendant, L, 

Attend. Please you, the Earl of Mar. 
Marg. I'm glad he comes. 
Lady D. I will not wait his presence. 
I'll to the Queen. [Exit, r. 

Enter Cochrane, l. 

Marg. I looked for you ere this ; 
The badge you wear assures you kindest welcome. 

Coch. I have the king's command to visit you. 

Marg, You rob your coming of its sweetest grace ; 
I hoped 'twas by no king's command you came. 
But willingly; but no, — ^forgive my idle talk, — 
E 



50 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act IV. 

There^s something on your brow— there is a look— - 
Is the king safe 1 Does Angus yield and go 1 

Cock. The host has moved for Lauder. 

Marg. Angus with them 1 
And Gray ] and Gairlies 1 But you'll not desert me 1 
You'll wear my colours still 1 

Coch. 1 had not dared 
To lift my hopes so high — I feared — I thought; 
You looked — you spoke j I dreamed you would not 
deign — 

Marg. Now, then, my lord : I have deserved this pang ; 
'Tis time 1 make confession of my faults. 
Oh, I was wrong — how wrong ! 1 knew you not ; 
I was so thoughtless. Say you'll pardon me. 
I had not strength to climb to the pure height 
Of thoughts like yours. But tell me you forgive me. 

Coch. Forgive you, lady ! 

Marg. But I let my tongue 
Rail on you, and ray eyes ; but they were false ! 
There was an awe within me even then, 
1 knew not why : I saw you placed so high 
O'er other men. You seemed some momitain ridge 
Far up, near heaven ; but cold : — and yet it caught 
The sunshine first. You mast have thought me weak, 
And harsh, and cruel. Do you forgive me. Mar ] 

CocJi. Look not with eyes like these- — let me not hear 
A voice like that, — they'll make the doom more sad 
That hangs above me ; let me bear a life 
Dark, joyless, — with no star to shine on it, 
Save duty and allegiance ; let me not 
Cherish a dream, — nay, turn you not away ; 
1 would not have you turn away your eyes. 

Marg. I thought you. told me not to look on you, 
Nor speak ; I turn away from you 
Because I would not you should see me weep. 

Coch. No, weep not — there should never sorrow come 
To eyes like yours. 

Marg. Did you not say, a doom 
Hung over you 1 And that your life was dark 
And joyless] 

Coch. AnA you weep 1 Oh, Margaret, 
If 1 might taJie yOur hand, and look on you, 



ScEi^El.] FEUDAL TIMES. 51 

And tell you — but, no, no ; it may not be ! 

Marg. Wherefore 1 I know not what your words por- 
tend ; " 
But this I know : there beats one heart. Lord Mar, 
That shares your grief, whate'er your grief may be, 
That would be partner of the darkest doom 
That can be yours. 

Cock. And this to me — to me *? 
Margaret, this hour o'ei-pays a life of grief. 
Come what, come may, I've heard from those dear lips 
Words that would sweeten death : ay, let it come ; 
It cannot rob me of this ecstacy ! 

Marg. Am I forgiven, Mar 1 

Coch. Oh, ask me not ! 
Let me but look into your eyes, and dream; 
Words can add nothing to the perfect bliss 
That binds us. 

Marg. But you leave me for the host. 

Coclf. Ay, love, to come to you again in joy. 
With peace, war's holiest triumph, on my sword. 
Let the base traitors threaten ; there's a power 
Within me now shall quell them; and the spell 
That chains them, — that wakes hope within my heart, 
Strength in my arm, — shall be my Margaret's love ! 
Come, dearest, to the king ; 'twill glad his heart 
To see me happy. He will thank you ; come. [Exeunt j R. 

END OF ACT IV. 



ACT V. 

Scene L — The Tent of Angus at Lauder, 

Enter Angus, Gairlies, Lords, and attendants, r. — Angus 
putting on armour. 

Ang. He said he'd speak my doom. My gauntlets, 
knave ! 
Let him look to his own. The dirk that came 
Last week from Milan; the short sword I wore 
At Rothesay, when I slew John of the Isles. 



62 FEUDAL TIMES. [AcT V. 

Will daylight never come ] 

Gair. I think a streak 
Of glimmering light rests on the pennon points 
O'er all the heath. 

Ang. Let the same glimmer play- 
On my sword blade ! Listen for their approach j 
Cochrane and James will be among us soon ; 
Then to it, my lords ! 

Gair. There is a rapid tramp 
Of horsemen coming down the Lauder Fell ; 
Now they're across the bridge. 

Ang, Are they in force 1 

Gair. I guess not more than two or three score. 

Ang. Away v,hen ! 
Pause not, hold you your council in the church. 
Lochleven, have my train drawn up. Ere long 
I'll hold a parley with our lord, the king, 
As suits us both. So, leave me now, my lords, 
And wait my coming. \Exeunt, Lordsy R. 

The grey dawn looks cold; 
And fitful breezes sway the lazy folds 
Of the white tents ; — what eye shall see them glow 
In the hot blaze of noon 1 Will Mar's or mine 1 
Not both, of that be sure ; unless— but, no — 
It is not worth the trial. If he left 
This nerveless king, and gave his aid to me, — 
Angus and Mar, — who could gainsay us then ] 
Not Albany, nor England, nor no Scot 
In all the land ! With wisdom and a sword 
Like his — Ha ! would he listen to it % 

[Lefinox appears at door^ h. 
Who's there ? 

Enter Lennox. 

Len. May I come in, Lord Angus ? 

A?ig. Ay, my lord ; 
'Tis easier than your going out will be. 
Lord Lennox, traitor ! spy ! deceiver ! dog ! 
Why does my dagger rest within its sheath ? 
What want you here ] I had no wish to stain 
My hand with such dishonoured blood as yours. 
Speak, ere 1 slay you. 



Scene II.] 



FEUDAL TIMES. 53 



Len. I told nothing, Angus, — 
Nothing I#ould conceal ; speak not so harshly; 
I tell you, I will aid you to my best 
Against the king, or Mar, or any one. 

Anir. Oh, you are changed, then ! What is it you can 
^ do? 

Len. All, any thing ; Lord Mar, if that's his name, 
Has played me false ; wears Margaret Handolph's co- 
lours ; 
Claims her for bride, and has his claim allowed. 
I'd slay him with this hand. 

Ang. Oh, you speak well ; 
But that's a work for worthier hand than yours. 
What is't you want? I'd be alone, I tell you. 
Go ; I remit your life : 'twould shame my blade 
To lift it on a thing so poor as you. 
Go, sir ! 

hen. Lord Angus, 'twas to offer aid 
I came to you. I bear command to-day 
Oi the king's guard. 

Ang. Ah ! well ; — what then 1 

Len. T thought 
1 might be useful. Give me but revenge ; 
1 ask no more. 

Ang. Revenge 1 and you command 
The guard ? Well, then ; you shall have your revenge. 
Withdraw your men when I'm in speech with James ; 
I'll take their place with Douglases — ho ! ho ! 
A good device. See that you fail me not. 
Or Vv^e have some further settlement to make. 

yroucldng Ills sword. 

Len. I'll wait you. 

Ang. Come, then ; James must be arrived 
Ere this, — and some one welcomer than James. 

[Exeunt, l. 

Scene II. — Lander. Grey daivn. The Tents of the Array 
seen on the Plain. Latider Chvrch in the distance. 

Enter James and Cochrane, l. 
Coch. We've rid through the thick night, and see at 



54 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act V. 

The opening sky, where the awakened sun 
Looks from his cradle in the curtained east.% 
How still and silent is this morning hour, 
As if, in breathless expectation, 
It heard the distant coming of the day ! 

James. No happy day. 

CocJi. Ay, sir, a happy day. 
If we will make it so ; a day shall bring 
A glad train with him; bold-eyed Constancy, 
Firm-hearted Hope, with Caution at his side. 
And, God's best gift. Endeavour ! Without these 
No day is happy ; with them, there's a light 
To gild the darkest. 

[Lennox leads in tlie guard ^ r., and stands motionless 
at the hack of the stage. 

James. And the host lies there. 
Silent ! 1 know not what the cause may be, 
But something weighs upon my heart. Ah, friend ! 

[Leans on Cochrane' s shoulde? . 

Coch. You have lacked sleep ; you've ridden in hot 
speed : 
I pray you, go you to your tent awhile, 
And rest your limbs. 

James. And you; where go you, Walter] 

Coch. Oh, 1 have thoughts to keep me from my couch. 

James. Ah, Walter, what a dull-eyed mole was I, 
To see not that two hearts like yours could beat 
But for each other ! 

Coch. Both shall beat for you 
In truest love and loyal watchfulness. 

James. Is it not well I spared Lord Angus' life? 
You blame me not for that 1 

Coch. I trust 'tis well. 
Where is his lordship's tent ? Young Daylight stands 
On the far hill, and gathers round his head 
The beams to make his crown that awes the world. 

[Looks towards the tents. 
They should be stirring, ere the lark on high 
Sings his farewell to the pale mornirg star. 
I must go rouse them for their work this day. 
I'll come to you, ere long ; but rest meanwhile. [Exitj l. 
[The guards go off, — Angus and the Douglases enter k. 



Scene IL] FEUDAL TIMES. 65 

James. [Not perceiving the change.] This is a weary time ; 
tMs clang of war 
Jars on my heart ; an 'twere not for my faith 
In Walter, and the strength my spirit draws 
From his high thoughts, this life were but a weight 
Numbing the soul. After too brief repose 
I must enclasp this tired breast in mail, 
And then for council ; well — 

i.ng. [Coming fo7-ward.\ It needeth not. 

Tames. Angus ! what mean you 1 

Ang. I speak plain enough. 
It needeth not that you take counsel, sir : 
Our plans are fixed. 

James. What thing is this 1 what speech % 
p[ow dare you speak to your anointed king 
I'l guise so harsh? 

Ang. I speak not in such words 
As your fair friends, — your minstrels, and such like ; 
I'ut I speak plain. 

James. Guards, seize this man ! 

Ang. My liege, [Pointing to the Douglas standard,] see 
you the banner 1 

James. Treason ! what is this ] 

Ang. No treason, sir, but justice. It is time 
A. Scottish king kept worthier company. 

James. What is't you mean % 

Ang. I'll show you what we mean ; 
/vnd your proud minion, Cochrane. 

James. What of him 1 
You mean not ill to him 1 Oh, spare him, Angus, 
And I'll forgive you all. 

Ang. I think, my liege, 
'Twere better you reflect, when you forgive. 
What's your forgiveness worth. The Douglases 
Have something to forgive as well as you. 
They've not forgotten how your father, sir. 
Slew Douglas — basely, treacherously slew him. 
In his own hall. There may be thoughts like tliese 
In some that own his blood. 

James. But you'll not dare 
To take his life — to slay him ; him, so wise, 
So good, so brave; Let me but go to him. 



56 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act V 



A?ig. Move not an inch. I mean your grace no scaitb 
Unless, unless — # 

James. 'Tis not about myself; 
I'd have you spare my friend, 

Ang. [ To tlic Guards.] Let him not stir \ 
I tell you, sir, the doom ere this is passed. 
He dies, with all the crew of them. Nay, nay. 
This is no time for holiday sweet words ; 
'Tis at your peril if you move. 

Enter Margaret in riding-cJoah and kood, r. 

Marg. Come I in time ] 
Oh, sir, 'I heard that treason was afoot,— 
1 rode in headlong haste : oh, where is Mar ? 
Angos — my liege — what does this silence mean ? 

A7ig. It means that we are trampled on no longer. 

James. It means that Mar is doomed. 

Ma7g. Then it was true ! 
Angus, I kneel before you ; tell me — tell me, 
What is't you do? Oh, sir, have pity on him,— - 
Pity on me ! — I never thought to live 
To ask your pity, — -but — have pity on me ! 

Avg. It makes my cheek grow red to listen to you, 
A Randolph asking pity for that man ! 

Jaines. Save him. Lord Angus ! Is it. power you as) f 
I give you power, wealth, all that you can w4sh ; 
33ut let me hear that Cochrane is in safety. 

Aug. Go, sir ! It fits you ill to waste your breath 
In suit so idle. Lead his grace to his tent. 

James. Say that you'll save him ere I go. 

Ang, Fareivell. 
Move him away, I say. 

\The King goes off ivith the Guards^ l. 

Mai'g. Where is Lord Mar \ 
If 'tis too late to save him, let me share 
The fate that may be his : in life or death— 
In weal or woe, our doom is one forever. 

Ang. Perhaps 'tis not too late. 

Marg. What ! not too late 1 
Oh, Angus, I will ]ove you from this hour. 
As never daughter loved her sire before ; 
I'll tend upon your steps, where'er you go, — 



Scene III.] FEUDAL TIMES. 57 

I'll place a crown of blessings on your head 
With my dear prayers. Tell me 'tis not too late ! 

Aug, It rests with him and you. I hate him not ^ 
Albeit he would have given me to the axe. 

Marg. Rests it with me % name but the price you ask, 
Tell me what I may do to save his life. 
Oh, he will do your best, whate'er it be, 
For it will give him back to me ! Come, Angus, 
Take me to where he is. Let me but see him, — 
I tell you, T will win him to your will. 
His life — his life ! Oh, give me but his life ! 
And I will wear you ever in my heart. 
Come, come. 

Ang, Build not your hopes too high. 

Marg. Come, come. [Exeunt, r. 

Scene III. — The Church at Lcmdei'. A great door at the 
hack of the Stage with a wichet in it. Lords, Gairlies, 
^•c., discovered. 

Enter Lennox, hurriedly, l. 

Len. Cochrane is on his way : — now life or death 
For him cr us, is as this hour shall send. 

Gair. What shall we do 1 

Len. Where is the Earl of Angus ? 
He spoke so boldly when no danger threatened ; 
He should be here. 

Gair. Are we to kill the man 1 

Gray. Angus has sworn he'll do it. 

Le7i. So would I, 
If, if— 

Enter Cochrane, r. 

Coch. What make you here, my lords ! 'Twere time 
To strike the tents, and blow the horn for march. 
What holds you dumb ? Come, I am unwelcome here ? 

Bish. Your lordship, you were scarce expected yf"t ; 
We thought — 

Gray [and the others jmsliing Lennox\. Go forward. 

Licn. No, not I. 

Gair. I will, then. 

Coch. \To 5/s/^] Well, my lord, what was your thought? 



68 FEUDAL TIMES. [ActV. 

Gair. [Touching Cochrane' s hunting horn.\ That yoti 
have blown the horn too long — a rope 
Would suit you better. 

Coch. Are you in earnest, sir ] 
Or is it a mock ] 

Gair. No mock, as you shall find. 

Lords. No mock, no mock. 

Coch. [To the Lords, and seizing Gairlies.] Give vv^ay, 
there, coward lord ! 
Say your last prayer. 1 would not slay your soul; 
Hence, or your lives are dust ! What mean you, sir, 
By words so bold 1 

Gair. Nothing, my lord. 

Coch. Be safe, 
And keep a watch upon your Irabbling tongue. 

[Releases hirn. 

Bish. Ala.s, sir, 'twas a foolish fro wardness ; 
They knew not what they did. Give me some speech 
Apart, I pray you. 

Coch. Let their lordships go. 

[ Watches them as they go out. 

Gair. [To Gray, as they are going.] We'll bar the outer 
door till Angus comes ; 
He leaves not this alive. 

Gray. A good stout twine, 
And a high gallow^s tree. [Exeunt Lords, l. 

Coch. [ To Bishojj.]^ And now, my lord. 
What is it you would tell me 1 

Bish. [Putting off time till Angus comes. \ Oh, my lord, 
This is a sinful time. Alas, how black 
Are all our hearts, how sunk from innocence ! 

Coch. Wein 

Bish. Would it not be wise for even the best 
To put no trust in fleshly arms like these % 

Coch. Alas, my lord, I looked not at this time 
For homily so grave. 

Bish, Then, sir, 1 leave you. [Shouting outside. 

I think I but disturb you. [Exit, l. 

Coch. What is this 1 
There's more in this than meets the eye or ear : 
That taunt, that insult. [Going. 



Scene III] FEUDAL TIMES. 59 

Enter Angus a7id Margaret, l. — Margaret, wrapt in a 
cloak, remams hehind, 

Ang. Rest you, good ray lord. 

Coch. You, too ! 'Twere better we should meet no 
more. 

Ang. But we have met, — and by St. Bride of Douglas, 
The odds are great we ne'er shall meet again. 
Look you, Lord Mar — nay, interrupt me not — 
I'll tell my own plain tale as suits me best: 
You think I hate you. Well, I love you not; — 
The reason why, you know : these other lords 
Have doomed you to a death, within this hour, 
That fits not a brave man ; and that you're brave. 
And wise, and kind, he'd be a bold-tongued knave 
That would gainsay when I am by. 

Coch. Go on. 

Ang. The doors are guarded by your enemies ; 
They'd take your life, — nay, 1 would do it myself, 
If you refused my offer. 

CocJi. I refuse it. 
I know not what it is. It comes from you — 
I spurn it, I refuse it. 

Ang. Think again. 
'Tis but to live in quiet in this realm. 
In your own castle, happy, powerful, rich, 
But friendly to my cause. 

Coch. Pray you, my lord, 
Tell me no more. You say the doors are guarded 
With hostile swords ; if they were multiplied 
By twenty times their number, and each sword 
Were pointed by a Douglas, you should fail 
To move my soul one jot. Hostile or not, 
I care not. My bright blade, that never flashed 
Save in the sunlight of an honoured cause. 
Serve me in this my need, as thou hast done 
In strait as great as this ! 1 warn you, sir, 
Your life is hanging on a thread ! 

Ang. Reflect. 
Ten minutes shall be yours ; and in my place 
I leave a better pleader than myself, 
To counsel von ; nnd so [ leave you. 



60 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act V, 



[ While speakings he leads Margaret to Cochrane^s side, 
and goes out, l., Jooking hack at them. Cochran&, 
turned away from Margaret, does not see her. 

Coch. Doomed 
To shameful death ! And Angus offers life— 
And what is life ] what is the fatal charm 
In that short word, that plays about the heart, 
And sways it 1 'Tis a vain, blank, worthless thing : 
A sword half drawn, and sheathed in the same breath ; 
A flickering leaf, falling from tree to ground ; 
A flight by a jDOor bird 'tween two black cliffs 
Across some narrow valley ; for brief space 
Sunshine falls on its wings ; a minute more, 
And all is da.rk again. And for this thing 
Does Angus think to ben-d me to his wish 1 
You cannot move nie, sir, from what I've said : 
Leave me, I charge you. 

Marg. Mar ! 

Coch. My Margaret ! 
What blessed angel brought you to my side ? 
Nay, you're the angel's self, and in the gloom 
Of hour like this, how cheering is the light 
Of your kind eyes ! 

Marg. Ay, Walter, they are kind. 
And will be ever kind ; and we shall yet 
Be happy — oh i how happy — if you yield — 
No, not to Angus — if you yield to me. 
Will you not yield to me ] 

Coch. I know your heart 
Too well to think you'd plead for anything 
That brought dishonour with it. Shall 1 yield 
To you 1 Yes, I will yield. 

Marg. And leave the strife 
Of pride and anger to those desperate men 1 
While we — Oh, Walter, what a life of joy 
Will shine on us ! — never to part again — 
In some far spot, in our own peaceful home, 
Together, still together, till we die ! 
Tell Angus you consent. Oh, thanks for this ! 
I'll pay you for it all my life with love ! 

Coch. Consent to what 1 

Marg. To be Lord Angus' friend ; 



Scene III.J FEUDAL TIMES. 61 

To leave the court, to live in peaceful state. 

Far from tumultuous thrones and wayward kings. 

Cocli. [Looking to the door.] What ! tempt me to, my 
ruin by these lips 1 
Villain, I tell you, no ! — My Margaret, 
You know not what you ask. You bid me lift 
My sacrilegious hand upon my friend, — 
You bid me be a traitor to the king, 
False to my country, and unworthy you. 
You ask me — no, you know not what you ask. 
I thought you knew me. 

Marg. Once I thought my heart 
Was nobler than I find it : once I thought 
I could have died with gladness ; but, ah me, 
I feel I am but a girl, a poor weak girl : 
I wished to have you mine, to be your own. 
Your wife, your all ! I cannot see you die, 
When we might be so happy if you lived ! 
Will you not yield 1 

Coch. And be a thing for scorn % 
So vile, that all the mountains of the earth. 
Heaped in one pile on my dishonoured head, 
Would fail to hide me 1 Think on what you ask. 
Arid tell me you would rather have me die. 
Than live the slave that they would turn me to. 

Marg. I would not have you change from what you 
are : 
But I am weak ; I thought I was more strong. 

Ang. [At door.] Does he consent 1 

Coch. No ! 

Marg. Yes ; a moment, Angus. — - 
Oh, Mar ! 

Coch. What % is it Margaret Randolph's voice 
That tries to win me to disgrace 1 I knew not— 
I was most wrong — forgive me, that my heart 
Deceived me in this thing. 

Marg. No, no ! away 
False womanish fancies ! You shall see me, sir, 
FiiTQ as yourself. I thought not of the price 
They claimed for their forbearance. 

Coch. Now you speak 
. As suits your noble nature, Margaret. 

F 



1 



62 FEUDAL TIMES. 



[Act V. 



This is no time for honeyed words of peace. 
What mean those men 1 

Marg. They mean your death. 
Coch. I know. 

Marg. A base — base death, so bitter is their wrath. 
Ang. [At door.] Come, does he yield ? the clock is on 
the stroke; 
When it strikes six, he lives my friend, or dies 
A felon's death ! I cannot change the doom. 

[S/wuting witJio'. 
Marg. They've seized the king ! 
Cocli. Ha ! open wide the door ! 
I'll hew my way through all the fiends in hell ! 

Marg. They will not open. Back ! come back, dear 
Mar ! 
They're in strong force. Oh ! if the hour is come, 
Save you from the dishonour of their touch ; 
They'll shame the glories of your noble life 
With hangman-hands ; they'll drag you to a death— 
I'd have you meet a man's death as a man, 
But not the death they'd have you die — not that. 
See, I've no tremor now. Shew Roman courage ! 

\She offers him a dagger. 
CocJi. [Rejecting it.] I have a nobler courage than the 
Roman's — 
Submission : not with coward, hopeless hand, 
Shall I strike out the holy lamp of life. 
Margaret, this is the last time we shall part ; 
Farewell ! farewell ! — Now, Angus, ope the door ! 

[The clock strikes during this, the door opens, and Coch- 
rane rushes out — clashing of sivords and clamour. 
Marg. Guard him, all angels ! aid him ! 
Coch. [ Without.] To the king ! 

[He is forced hack, wounded — he defends the entrance 
—Margaret bars the wicket. 
To the kin,^ ! to the king ! 

Marg. Mar, Mar ! you are in blood — 
You're wounded — faint— 

Coch. No, no, the door, I say ! 

Marg. Lean on me, Mar ; how feel you, dearest Mar ? 
Coch. As one who struggles in a summer sea, 
Far from the land, with tired arms, and waves 



r 

Scene 1 1 1. J 



FEUDAL TIMES. 



63 



All round him. \A great Icnocking at the main door, as if 

to force it in; shoutings Sfc] Mari^aret, give me 

your sweet hand ; 
If I had lived to thank you for your love — 
If I had lived — but — [Sinks to the ground — a pause — noise 

outside,] Tell our lord the king, 
I tried to make him honoured, loved, and feared: 
If I had reached his tent, I would have died 
As suits a Scottish noble — at the feet 
Of his kind king, Margaret, what bliss it is 
To see you thus ! I bless you as I die. 

[The great door is hurst open ; Angus and the others 

appear ; Cochrane, hy an effort, springs up and 

clutches his sword. 
Back ! back ! the ground she treads is holy ground ! 
Back ! back ! — Ha ! [Staggers forward and dies, 

ivlarg. Heard you what he said ] Give place ! 
Away ! my heart's on fire ! I'll have revenge ! 
Traitor and murderer ! [Rushes on Angus' sword, 

'Tis but what I wished ; 

I thank your sword for giving me this death. — 
Walter, they tried to keep me from your side ; 
They cannot do it ! How happy 'tis to die 
Thus ! [Dies. 



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